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THE 


PRAIRIE    FLOWER; 


OR, 


ADVENTURES   IN   THE   FAR   WEST 


BY  EMERSON  BENNETT.    !  <e  2  2  - 

// 

OF  "THE  FOREST  HOSE,"  "THE  BANDITS  OF  THE  OSAGE,"  "THI:  TBAITOB," 
"  OLIVER  GOLDFINCH,"  "  KATE  CLARENDON,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


But  O,  the  blooming  prairie, 

Here  ».re  God's  floral  bower*, 
Of  all  that  ho  hath  made  on  earth 

The  loveliest.  *  *  * 

This  is  the  Almighty's  garden, 

And  the  mountain?,  stars,  and  se*, 
Are  nought  compared  in  beauty, 

With  God's  garden  prairie  free. 


NEW   EDITION,    REVISED   AND   CORRECTED   BY  THE   AUTHOR. 


CINCINNATI: 
PUBLISHED    BY     U.    P.   J'AMES, 

No.  177  RAC,<E  STREET. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY   J.    A.    &   U.   P.    JAMES, 
•n  tne  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  District,  of  Ohio. 


•     Bancroft  Library 
f,    =1 


DEDICATION, 


1  9 


frank     £i\  a  j  a  r  ,    JH.   SI., 

Of 

COVINGTON,    KENTUCKY. 


DEAR  SIR  :  —  In  selecting  your  name  to  grace  this  page,  I  feel  1  am  only 
doing  an  act  appropriate  to  the  esteem  in  which  I  hold  and  the  friendship 
that  I  feel  for  you.  And  to  me  this  inscription  seems  the  more  appropriate, 
that  our  acquaintance  was  formed  in  the  sick-room,  and  at  the  bedside  of 
one  near  and  dear  to  me,  while  I  was  engaged  in  writing  the  closing 
scenes  >f  the  pages  which  follow.  My  child,  an  only  child,  was  lying  at 
the  point  of  death ;  and  you  were  called,  in  your  professional  capacity,  to 
visit  him.  The  kindly  interest  you  manifested  in  his  welfare —  the  close 
and  almost  constant  attendance  you  gave  him  —  the  high  professional 
ukill  you  displayed  in  his  behalf —  and  last,  though  not  least,  your  success, 
under  God,  in  snatching  him,  as  it  were,  from  the  very  jaws  of  death  — 
led  me  to  admire  your  talents  as  a  physician,  and,  together  with  one 
who  had  t-een,  like  myself,  nearly  prostrated  with  affliction,  at  the  thought 
that  our  <nily  child  must  go  from  us,  to  regard  you  as  truly  a  "  friend 
in  need."  The  friendship  thus  begun,  and  since  continued,  I  trust  will  be 
lasting  ;  «wid  as  a  remembrancer  of  the  many  pleasant  hours  we  have  spent 
together,  rrchangip^  ideas  and  traveling  over  the  bright  and  fertile  fields 
of  imayi nation,  -,  i  .-ably  inscribe  this  work  to  you. 

THE    AUTHOR. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


As  almost  every  one  who  takes  any 
mferest  in  a  book,  has  eome  desire  or 
curiosity  to  know  how  or  why  it  came  to 
be  written,  and  as  there  are  some  things 
of  which  he  desires  to  speak  particularly, 
the  author,  compiler,  or  editor  of  Prairie 
Flower,  (whichever  you  please,  reader,) 
has,  after  due  consideration,  decided  on 
giving  the  information  alluded  to,  in  an 
introductory  note  to  the  present  volume. 
While  engaged  in  writing  for  the  press,  a 
tall,  dark-visaged,  keen -eyed  individual 
entered  his  sanctum,  early  one  morning, 
bearing  in  his  hand  a  bundle  of  no  inferior 
size.  Having  stared  around  the  apartment, 
as  if  to  assure  himself  there  was  no  mistake, 
he  coolly  took  the  only  remaining  seat, 
wben  the  following  conversation  occurred. 

STRANGER.  —  Mr.  Scribblepen,  I  pre 
sume  ? 

AUTHOR. — My  name,  sir  ! 

STRANGER. — He-e-m !  (A  pause.)  Write 
novels,  presume,  Mr.  Scribblepen  ? 

AUTHOR. — When  I  have  nothing  better 
to  do. 

STRANGER. — (After  a  little  reflection.) 
Found  them  on  fact,  eh  ? 

AUTHOR.  —  Sometimes,  and  sometimes 
draw  rather  freely  on  the  imagination,  as 
the  case  may  be. 

STRANGER. — How  would  you  like  the 
idea  of  writing  one  THAT  SHOULD  CONTAIN 

NOTHING  BUT  FACT? 

AUTHOR.  —  (Becoming  interested  and 
laying  down  his  pen.)  Have  no  objections, 
provided  there  is  fact  enough,  and  of  a 
nature  sufficiently  exciting  to  make  the 
story  interesting  to  the  general  reader. 

STRANGER.— (Frniliu.cr  complacently,  and 
tapping  his  burdle.)  Got  the  documents 
here,  and  no  mistake.  Every  word  true, 
f  pledge  you  my  honor.  Promise  to  work 


them  up  faithfully,  and  they  arc  at  your 
service. 

AUTHOR. — (In  doubt.)  But  how  am  I 
to  know  they  contain  only  facts  ? 

STRANGER. — You  have  my  word,  sir  ! 

AUTHOR. — Did  you  write  them  ?  Do 
they  comprise  a  journal  of  your  own 
adventures  ? 

STRANGER. — (A  little  testily.)  No  mat 
ter  about  either !  They  contain  nothing 
but  facts,  and  that  is  enough  for  any  rea 
sonable  man  to  know. 

AUTHOR. — But  how  am  I  to  know  this  ? 
You  must  remember  you  are  a  stranger 
to  me,  sir ! 

STRANGER. —  (Coloring,  and  carelessly 
placing  his  hand  upon  the  breech  of  a  pis 
tol,  barely  seen  protruding  from  beneath 
his  waistcoat. )  I  allow  no  one  to  doubt 
my  word,  sir ! 

AUTHOR. — (A  little  nervous,  and  not 
caring  to  doubt  such  powerful  testimony.) 

0  !  ah  !  I  see — it  is  all  right,  of  course. 
STRANGER. — (Again  smiling  pleasantly.) 

So  you  will  undertake  the  job,  Mr.  Scrib 
blepen,  and  give  facts  in  everything  but 
the  most  important  names  ? 

AUTHOR. — I  will  try. 

STRANGER. — (Placing  the  package  upon 
the  table  and  rising  as  if  to  go.)  You  can 
have  them,  then.  All  I  ask  is  that  you 
will  be  a  faithful  chronicler.  The  names 

1  wish  changed,  you  will  find  marked.     I 
have  a  desire  to  see  the  whole  in  print, 
and  you  may  take  all  the  profit  and  what 
ever  credit  you  please,  so  you  keep  fact  in 
view.     The  incidents  are   romantic,   and 
sufficiently  exciting  for  your  purpose,  with 
out  embellishment.     I  shall  keep  an  eye 
upon   the  publication,  and  you  may  sea 
me  again,  or  you  may  not :    I  make   no 
promises.     Good  morning,  sir  ! 


INTRODUCTORY. 


AUTHOR.  —  (Rising  to  bow  him  out.) 
But  your  name,  stranger,  if  you  please  ? 

STRANGER. — (Hesitating.)  I  am  called 
the  Wanderer.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Scrib- 
blepen  ! 

AUTHOR.  —  Good  morning  Mr.  "Wan 
derer  !  (Returns  to  the  mysterious  pack 
age,  opens,  examines  it,  begins  to  read, 
gets  interested,  and  goes  to  bed  the  night 
following  minus  dinner  and  supper.) 

Having  shown  you  how  he  became  pos 
sessed  of  the  facts  of  the  story,  the  author 
would  say  a  few  words  more  as  regards 
the  characters  set  forth  in  the  following 
pages,  he  would  state,  that,  being  all  real, 
some  represent  a  class,  and  some  an  indi 
vidual  only.  Prairie  Flower  is  of  the 
latter,  and  is  drawn  from  real  life.  That 
the  proceedings  of  herself  and  tribe  may 
appear  mysterious,  and,  to  some,  at  first 
thought,  (her  locality  and  everything  con- 1 
sidered)  out  of  place,  the  author  does  not ! 
doubt ;  but  he  believes  that  no  one  who 
is  conversant  with  Indian  history,  and| 


especially  with  that  relating  to  the  Norft* 
western  Tribes  and  the  Moravian  Missions, 
during  the  early  settlement  of  Ohio,  will 
find  in  this  character  or  her  tribe  anything 
that  may  be  termed  overstrained  or  unnat 
ural.  That  she  is  a  marked  character, 
distinct  and  peculiar,  and  liable  to  be  mis 
construed  by  those  who  do  not  take  every 
thing  into  consideration,  but  allow  a  first 
fancy  to  have  full  sway — he  admits  ;  but 
at  the  same  time  would  desire  such  to 
withhold  an  expression  of  opinion,  until 
they  shall  have  read  to  the  end,  when 
he  trusts  they  will  find  the  explanation 
satisfactory. 

With  these  remarks,  and  the  simple 
statement  that  the  reader  may  look  upon 
the  scenes  described  as  real,  the  author 
would  take  his  respectful  leave  for  the 
present,  hoping  the  reader  may  find,  if 
nothing  else  of  interest,  information  re 
garding  life  in  the  Far  West,  sufficient  to 
repay  a  perusal. 

CINCINNATI. 


ADDITIONAL. 

The   foregoing   was    afhxed    to    the   first  edition    of  "  PRAIRIE    FLOWER,"   which 
appeared  in   1849,  and  which,  though  a  large  one,  \va«  exhausted  in  a  little  over  three 
months.     And  the  Author  would  here  take  occasion  to  say,  that  the  success  tin's  work 
has  met  with  from  the  reading  community  —  the  high  mark  of  .popular  favor  which  ht.s 
been  bestowed  upon  it  by  an  intelligent  and  discriminating  public  —  together  with  th 
friendly  notices  it  has  received    from  the  Press,  and  the  eulogistic  remarks  of   correi 
pendents,  both  known  and  unknown  to  the  Author,  from  all  parts  of  the  country  —  hav 
been  the  green  OASES  in  the    desert  of  life  of  one  who  toils  only  to  please,  and  who 
herewith  returns  his  humble  thanks  to  each  and  all,  coupled  with  his  regrets  th-at  the 
work  in  question  is  not  more  worthy  of  the  eulogiums  that  greeted  its  first  appearance. 

To  those  unknown  friends  at  a  distance  who  have  made  kindly  inquiries  by  letter, 
concerning  the  strange  individual  from  whom  the  author  obtained  the  manuscripts 
referred  to  in  the  foregoing  note  —  as  also  in  reference  to  the  present  \vhereabouta 
of ':  Prairie  Flower"  herself,  and  others  —  but  which  a  press  of  business  has  prevented 
him  from  answering  as  he  otherwise  would  have  done  —  the  author  takes  '.reason  to 
say,  to  one  and  all,  that  as  respects  the  "  Wanderer,"  having  never  heard  from  him 
eince,  he  congratulates  himself  on  having  given  no  offense,  in  working  up  the  material! 
he  furnished  ;  and  that,  with  regard  to  Prairie  Flower  and  the  rest,  he  knows  nothing 
additional  to  the  facts  recorded  in  the  following  pages. 

ClKCIKNATI,   O.. 


THE 


PRAIRIE    FLOWER 


CHAPTER    I. 
THE  PROPOSITION  —  THE  RESOLVE  — HO:  FOR  OREGON. 


"  Ho  !  for  Oregon  —  what  say  you, 
Frank  Leighton  ?  "  exclaimed  my  college 
chum,  Charles  Huntly,  rushing  into  ro^ 
room,  nearly  out  of  breath,  where  I  \vas 
cosily  seated,  with  my  sheep-skin  diploma 
spread  before  me,  engaged  in  tracing  out 
my  legal  right  to  subjoin  the  magical  ini 
tials,  M.  D.,  to  my  name.  "  Come,  what 
say  you,  Frank?"  queried  my  companion 
again,  as  I  looked  up  in  some  surprise. 

"Why,  Charley,"  returned  I,  "what 
new  notion  has  taken  possession  of  your 
brain  ?  " 

"  Oregon  and  adventure,"  he  quickly 
rejoined,  with  flashing  eyes.  "You  know, 
Frank,  our  collegiate  course  is  finished, 
and  we  must  do  something  for  the  remain 
der  of  our  lives.  Now,  for  myself,  I  can 
not  bear  the  idea  of  settling  down  to  the 
dry  practice  of  law,  without  at  least  hav 
ing  seen  something  more  of  the  world  ; 
and  by  all  means  I  would  not  settle  here 
in  the  east,  where  lawyers  are  as  plenty 
as  stubble  in  a  harvested  rye-field,  and,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  to  make  the  compari 
son  good,  just  about  as  much  needed.  You 
know,  Frank,  we  have  often  planned  to 
gether,  where  we  would  go,  and  what  we 
would  do,  when  we  should  get  our  liber 
ty  ;  and  now  the  western  fever  has  seized 
me,  and  I  am  ready  to  exclaim — ho  !  for 
Oregon." 

"But,  Charley,"  returned  I,  "consider; 
here  we  are  now,  snug  in  old  Cambridge, 
«nd  Oregon  is  thousands  of  miles  away. 
It  ia  much  easier  saying,  ho  !  for  Oregon, 


than  it  is  getting  to  Oregon.  Besides, 
what  should  we  do  when  there  ?  " 

"  Hunt,  fish,  trap,  shoot  Indians,  any 
thing,  everything,"  cried  my  comrade,  en 
thusiastically,  "so  we  manage  to  escape 
ennui,  and  have  plenty  of  adventure  ! " 

"I  must  confess,"  said  I,  "that  I  like 
the  idea  wonderfully  well — but " 

"  But  me  no  buts  !  "  exclaimed  Huntley; 
"  you  will  like  it — I  shall  like  it — and  we 
will  both  have  such  glorious  times.  Col 
lege — law — pah  !  I  am  heartily  sick  of 
hearing  of  either,  and  long  for  those  mag 
nificent  wilds,  where  a  man  may  throw 
about  his  arms  without  fear  of  punching 
anybody  in  the  ribs.  So  come,  Frank, 
set  about  matters — settle  up  your  affairs, 
if  you  have  any,  either  in  money  or  love — 
and  then  follow  me.  Faith!  man,  I'll 
guide  you  to  a  real  El  Dorado,  and  no 
mistake." 

The  words  of  my  companion  produced 
a  strong  effect  upon  my  naturally  restless 
mind.  Nothing  that  he  could  have  pro 
posed,  at  that  moment,  would  have  suited 
my  inclination  better  than  such  a  journey 
of  adventure  ;  and  no  companion  would  I 
have  chosen  in  preference  to  himself.  We 
had  been  playmates  together  in  infancy, 
we  had  studied  together  in  youth,  and,  for 
the  last  four  years,  had  been  chums  at  old 
Harvard  University — he  studying  law  and 
I  medicii  '"  -,  by  the  strict  discipline 
of  the  U  •.'  ;  rsity,  we  were  not  entitled  to 
occupy  apartment,  on  account 

of  our  d  .  udies  ;  but  the  influence 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;   OR, 


of  our  connections  made  us  privileged  per 
sonages  ;  and  the  professors  winked  at 
many  things  in  us,  that  in  others  would 
have  been  grave  offences.  The  substance 
of  the  matter  is,  we  began  our  studies  to 
gether,  roomed  together,  and  each  com 
pleted  his  course  at  the  same  time. 

From  childhood  up,  I  had  loved  Charles 
Huntly — or  Charley,  as  I  more  familiarly 
termed  him — as  a  brother  ;  and  this  frater 
nal  feeling  I  knew  he  as  warmly  returned. 
We  walked  together,  played  together,  sung 
together — ever  took  each  other's  part  on 
all  occasions,  whether  right  or  wrong — 
and,  in  fact,  for  our  close  intimacy,  were 
dubbed  the  Siamese  twins.  We  were 
both  only  sons  of  wealthy  parents.  My 
father  was  a  wholesale  merchant  in  Bos 
ton  ;  so  was  his;  the  only  difference  in 
their  occupations  being,  that  the  former 
dealt  in  dry  goods,  the  latter  in  groceries. 
Now  there  was  another  strong  tie  between 
young  Huntly  and  myself.  He  had  an 
only  sister — a  sweet,  modest,  affectionate 
creature,  some  three  years  his  junior — 
whom  I  loved  with  all  the  ardent  passion 
of  a  fiery,  impetuous  youth  ;  and  was,  I 
fancied,  loved  in  return.  Be  this  as  it 
might,  my  passion  for  his  sister  he  knew 
and  encouraged;  and  this,  as  I  said  be 
fore,  only  added  a  stronger  link  to  the 
chain  of  our  friendship. 

In  age,  Charles  Huntly  was  my  senior 
by  nearly  a  year,  and  was  now  a  little 
turned  of  twenty-one.  In  stature  we 
were  much  alike — both  being  about  five 
feet  and  ten  inches,  with  regular  propor 
tions.  In  complexion  we  differed  mate 
rially —  he  being  light,  with  light  curly 
hair ;  and  I  dark,  with  hair  black  and 
straight.  In  personal  appearance  my 
friend  was  remarkably  handsome  and  pre 
possessing.  His  beauty  did  not  consist  in 
the  mere  perfection  of  features — though 
these  were,  in  general,  very  fine — so  much 
as  in  the  play  and  expression  of  the  whole 
countenance,  where  every  thought  seemed 
to  make  an  instant  and  passing  impres 
sion.  His  forehead  was  high  and  broad, 
and  stamped  with  intellect,  beneath  which 
shone  a  bright,  blue  eye,  that  could  spar 
kle  with  mirth,  or  flash  with  anger,  as  the 
case  might  be.  The  contour  of  his  face 
was  a  something  between  the  Grecian  and 
Anglo-Saxon,  though  the  nose  was  deci 


dedly  of  the  former  cast.  His  skin— fine, 
smooth,  and  almost  beardless — gave  him 
an  appearance  so  boyish  that  I  was  often 
mistaken  for  his  senior  by  many  years — 
a  matter  which  generally  irritated  him  not 
a  little,  as  he  hat!  a  strong  repugnance  to 
being  thought  effeminate.  His  tempera 
ment  was  strongly  nervous.  At  heart  h« 
was  truly  noble  and  generous  ;  but  this,  by 
those  who  did  not  know  him  intimately, 
was  very  frequently  overlooked  in  his  hot 
and  hasty  temper.  None  was  more  ready 
to  resent  an  insult,  or  redress  a  wrong ; 
and  as  he  was  very  tenacious  of  his  own 
honor,  so  was  he  of  another's.  If  you 
insulted  him,  you  must  take  the  conse 
quences,  and  they  would  not  be  slow  to 
follow,  unless  ample  apology  were  made, 
in  which  case  his  hand  was  ever  open  for 
friendship.  If  he  did  you  a  wrong,  and 
became  convinced  of  it,  he  could  not  rest 
until  he  had  sued  for  pardon.  He  was 
wild  at  times  in  his  notions,  headstrong, 
hot-brained,  and,  in  general,  a  great  en 
thusiast.  Whenever  anything  new  took 
possession  of  his  mind,  it  was  the  great 
all-in-all  for  the  time  being  ;  but  was  very 
apt  to  pass  away  soon,  and  be  supplied  by 
something  equally  as  great,  and  equally  as 
evanescent. 

Such,  as  I  have  just  enumerated,  were 
the  striking  points  in  the  appearance  and 
character  of  Charles  Huntly;  and  though 
in  the  latter  we  were  much  alike,  yet  we 
seldom  quarreled,  and  then  only  to  make 
it  up  the  next  time  we  met. 

Now,  as  Charles  remarked,  in  language 
which  I  have  already  quoted,  we  had  of 
ten,  during  our  leisure  moments,  laid  out 
plans  of  adventure  for  the  future,  when 
our  collegiate  course  should  be  finished. 
But  the  plan  of  to-day  had  been  alway» 
superseded  by  the  one  of  to-morrow,  so 
that,  unless  we  resolved  on  something 
steadily,  it  was  more  than  probable  that 
the  whole  would  result,  simply,  in  specu 
lating  visions  of  the  brain.  The  last  pro 
position  was,  of  course,  the  one  which 
opens  this  chapter  ;  and  which  had,  per 
haps,  less  weight  with  me  at  the  moment, 
from  my  remembering  the  failure  of  all  the 
others.  Still,  there  was  one  thing  in  it* 
its  favor  which  none  of  the  others  had  Lad. 
We  had  completed  our  studies  now,  and 
were  at  liberty,  if  we  resolved  on  it,  to 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


9 


carry  our  project  into  immediate  execu 
tion,  before  it  should  become  trite  ;  and  be 
sides,  nothing  before  had  seemed  so  fully 
to  meet  the  views  of  both  in  every  par 
ticular.  Adventure  was  our  delight  in 
every  shape  we  could  find  it ;  as  several 
powerful  admonitions  and  premonitory 
warnings  from  our  tutors,  for  various  little 

Ee-jcadilloes — such  as  tying  a  calf  to  the 
e!l  rope,  playing  the  ghost  to  old  women, 
upsetting  beehives,  and  robbing  hen 
roosts — might  well  attest.  But  there  was, 
notwithstanding,  a  darwback,  which  made 
me  hesitate  when  my  friend  interrupted 
me.  He  was  of  age,  but  I  was  not ;  and 
my  father  might  not  be  willing  to  give  his 
consent,  without  which  I  certainly  would 
not  venture.  Another :  I  loved  Lilian 
Huntly  ;  and  should  I  go  and  leave  her, 
she  might  get  married  in  my  absence — a 
result  which  I  felt  was  not  to  be  endured. 

While  I  sat,  with  my  head  upon  my 
hand,  buried  in  thought,  rapidly  running 
these  things  over  in  my  mind,  my  compan 
ion  stood  watching  me,  as  if  to  gather  my 
decision  from  the  expression  of  my  coun 
tenance. 

"Well,  Frank,"  said' he,  at  length,  "it 
seems  you  have  become  very  studious  all 
a  once.  How  long  is  it  going  to  take  you 
to  decide  on  accepting  so  glorious  a  propo 
sition?" 

"  How  long  since  the  idea  of  it  entered 
your  head  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Ten,  fifteen,  ay,  (looking  at  his  watch) 
twenty  minutes.  I  was  down  for  the  pur 
pose  of  getting  a  hack,  to  take  us  over  to 
the  city,  when  the  thought  came  across  me 
like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  I  turned  and 
(lurried  back,  to " 

"  See  me  before  you  altered  your  mind," 
interrupted  I,  completing  his  sentence. 

"  Confound  you,  Frank — wait  till  I  have 
done,  I  hurried  back,  I  say,  to  let  you 
ahare  the  bright  prospect  with  me." 

"  Humph  !  prospect  indeed  !  "  said  I, 
with  a  laugh,  merely  for  the  purpose  of 
annoying  him ;  for  I  saw,  by  his  whole 
demeanoi,  that  he  was  decidedly  in  ear 
nest.  "And  a  prospect  it  will  ever  remain, 
I  am  thinking,  a  long  way  ahead.  You 
are  joking,  Charley,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"No.  by  all  the  bright  cupids  of  fairy 


realms,  I  swear  to  you,  Frank,  my  dear 
fellow,  I  never  was  so  serious  about  any 
thing  in  my  life,  since  the  time  when  I 
played  the  ghostly  tin-pan  drummer  to  the 
edification  of  old  Aunt  Nabby." 

"But  allowing  you  are  in  earnest,  you 
have  overlooked  two  important  points  in 
asking  me  to  accompany  you." 

"  Ha  !  what  are  they  ?  " 

"  My  father,  and  Lilian." 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,  Frank — don't  be  a  fool !  " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  am  trying  to 
guard  against,  Charley.  Shall  I  assist  you 
a  little  ?  " 

"  Pshaw!  stuff!  nonsence  ! — what  have 
your  father  and  my  sister  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  first  might  refuse  his  con 
sent  to  my  going  :  and  the  last  might  con 
sent  to  have  my  place  filled  in  my  absence." 

"  Well,"  answered  Charley,  "  as  to  your 
father,  I  will  pledge  you  my  word  that  he 
will  give  his  consent ;  and  for  Lilian,  that 
she  will  await  your  return,  if  it  be  six 
years  hence." 

"  You  will  ?"  cried  I,  jumping  up  so 
suddenly  as  to  upset  the  table  on  to  the 
toes  of  my  companion  ;  "you  will  pledge 
your  word  to  this,  Charley  ?  " 

"  A  plague  on  that  table  and  your  great 
haste  !  "  muttered  Huntly,  hobbling  about 
the  room,  and  holding  his  bruised  foot  in 
his  hand.  "  Yes,  I  will  pledge  you  my 
honor  to  both,  if  you  will  say  the  word." 

"  Enough  !  here  is  my  hand  on  it,  "  I 
cried. 

Down  went  the  bruised  foot,  and  the 
next  moment  I  felt  the  bones  of  my  fingers 
crack  under  the  powerful  pressure  of  those 
of  my  enthusiastic  friend. 

"  Now,  Frank,"  he  almost  shouted,  ca 
pering  about  the  room  for  joy,  "you  are 
pledged  beyond  a  back-out." 

"  On  condition  you  make  your  pledge 
good." 

"  I  will  do  it  or  die." 

"  Then  enough  is  said." 

"Hurrah, then,  for  a  hack!"  cried  Charles 
Huntly,  darting  out  of  my  room  and  down 
a  flight  of  stairs,  to  the  imminent  danger 
of  his  neck  :  "  Hurrah  for  a  hack  !  and  hoi 
for  the  Rocky  Mountains,  Oregon,  and  the 
far,  Far  West !  " 


10 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLO.WER;    OR 


CHAPTER    II 


-SEPARA- 


PREPA RATION LOVE JEALOUSY- 

TION  AND   DEPARTURE. 

IT  was  a  clear,  starlight  evening  in  the 
mon  li  of  May,  that  I  found  myself  slow 
ly  Healing  tlie  tine  mansion  of  Benjamin! 
Huiuly,  to  behold  my  sweet  and  dearly  | 
loved  Lilian,  perhaps  for  the  last  time  I 
felt  strangely,  as  1  had  never  felt  before. 
A  week  had  elapsed,  and  all  had  been  ar 
ranged  for  my  departure,  at  an  early  hour 
on  the  following  morning.  The  consent 
$f  my  parents  had  been  reluctantly  yield 
ed  to  the  powerful  eloquence  anil  soft  per 
suasion  of  my  enthusiastic  friend.  Al- 
readv  had  mv  trunks  been  packed,  and  my 
ptirsr  title. I,  for  the  long  separation.  Al 
ready  had  1  listened  to  the  parental  advice 
of  my  failier,  and  seen  the  tears  of  sorrow 
in  my  beloved  mother's  eyes.  The  strug 
gle  of  consent,  but  not  of  parting,  was 
now  over  ,  and  1  was  wending  my  way  to ' 
the  house  of  my  friend,  to  take  leave  of 
one,  at  the  thought  of  whom  my  heart  ever 
beat  rapidly.  A.S  I  said  before,  I  felt 
strangely.  I  was  about  to  bid  adieu — a 
Long,  perchance  a  last,  adieu — to  all  the 
bright  scenes  of  my  childhood — to  friends 
near  and  dear  to  me — to  father  and  mother 
— and,  last,  though  not  least,  to  tht  idol  of 
my  purer  thoughts. 

It  is  hard,  very  hard,  to  leave  the  scenes 
of  our  youth  for  the  first  time — to  venture 
forth,  we  scarce  know  whither,  like  a  fea 
ther  borne  unconsciously  upon  the  strong 
est  current  of  air.  However  much  we  may 
plan  in  secret — however  strikingly  we  may 
draw  the  pictures  of  adventure  in  the 
rosy  colors  of  anticipation — however  great 
may  be  our  jnclination  to  go  and  see  the 
world  for  ourselves  ;  yet  when  the  time  of 
separation  comes — when  we  are  about  to 
cut  the  cord  that  binds  us  to  all  we  have 
ever  seen  and  loved — the  heart  grows  sad, 
and  soft,  and  we  feel  as  if  staggering  un 
der  the  weight  of  some  impending  ca- 
Jamity. 

Thus  I  felt,  and  a  great  deal  more  which 
I  cannot  describe,  as  I  paused  for  a  mo 
ment  upon  the  steps  of  Lilian  Huntly's 
dwelling,  to  compose  my  agitated  nerves 
and  appear  calm  and  collected.  Why  was 


it  that  my  agitation  shoald  now  only  in 
crease  ?  Why  could  I  never  appear  before 
her  as  before  any  other  I  had  ever  seen— 
cool  and  collected  ?  Why  must  my  heart 
always  flutter  so,  and  my  usually  free- 
coming  words  stick  chokingly  in  my  throat, 
or  congeal  upon  my  lips  ?  Was  it  because 
I  loved  her  ?  I  would  have  given  half  mv 
expected  inheritance  to  talk  to  her  freely 
as  I  could  to  others.  I  had  often  tried  it, 
but  in  vain.  I  always  made  a  fool  of  my 
self,  and  I  knew  it.  1  fancied  Lilian  knew 
it  too ;  and  this  only  added  to  my  embar 
rassment.  My  heart  and  my  self-esteem 
whispered  me  I  was  loved ;  but  my  bash 
ful  fears  told  me  the  contrary.  I  had  never 
tested  her,  and  now  I  was  about  to  do  it. 
If  she  loved  me,  she  would  plainly  show  it 
the  moment  of  separation.  I  was  shortly 
to  be  made  happy  or  miserable,  or  miser 
ably  happy  ;  for  if  she  loved  me,  I  should 
be  happy  in  knowing  it — unhappy  in  the 
thought  of  a  long  parting.  1  trembled  as 
I  thought,  until  my  knees  smote  each  other 
as  did  Belshazzer's. 

At  last,  desperate  effort,  I  assumed  a 
courage  I  did  not  possess,  and,  ascending 
the  steps,  rang  the  bell.  In  another  min 
ute  I  was  ushered  into  the  parlor,  and  the 
servant  who  admitted  me  was  already  gone 
to  summon  my  fair  judge.  1  gazed  around 
upon  the  beautiful  paintings  which  adorn 
ed  the  walls,  but  without  seeing  them.  I 
felt  like  a  guilty  culprit  about  to  hear  hi$ 
doom.  Could  money,  at  that  moment, 
have  purchased  me  easy  assurance,!  would 
have  had  it  at  any  price.  1  remained  in 
suspense  some  five  minutes,  when  the  dool 
opened  and  Lilian  entered — entered  like  a 
fairy  being  into  her  golden  realms. 

Heavens  !  how  lovely!  I  had  never  seen 
her,  or  ought  else,  look  so  eiichantingly 
sweet  before.  In  complexion  and  fea 
tures,  Lilian  strongly  resembled  her  bro 
ther — save  that  everything  was  more  soft, 
more  effeminate,  more  exquisitely  beauti 
ful,  Her  skin  was  fair,  and  clear  as  ala 
baster,  with  a  slight  tint  of  crimson  upon 
each  cheek.  Her  features  were  all  of  the 
finest  mold.  Her  large,  soft,  dear  blue 
eyes,  were  rendered  extremely  fascinating 
by  long,  drooping,  delicately  fringed  lashes. 
In  their  depths  was  a  soul  of  Undei 
thought,  feeling,  and  love  ;  and,  most  joy 
ful  discovery  !  they  were  now  s\\  imniing  in 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE     FAR    WEST 


11 


tears.  She  loved  me  then,  and  had  been 
weeping  at  the  th  night  of  my  leaving  her  ! 
The  expression  of  her  sweet  countenance, 
too,  was  sad.  Her'  plump,  cherry  lips 
were  just  parted,  as  if  about  to  speak,  dis 
playing  two  rows  of  beautiful  pearls.  Her 
light  hair  was  arranged  a  la  mode,  and  a 
bright,  glowing  diamond  sparkled  on  her 
forehead.  Her  exquisitely  faultless  form 
was  arrayed  in  the  emblem  of  purity,  a 
snow-white  dress,  which  almost  made  me 
fancv  her  an  etherial,  a  spiritual  visitor. 

She  advanced  with  a  timid  step,  and 
held  out  her  snowy,  dimple  hand.  She 
tried  to  speak,  but  language  failed  her.  I 
tried  to  do  the  same,  with  a  like  success. 
I  made  a  step  toward  her,  and  her  hand 
touched  mine  Heavens  !  what  emotions 
thrilled  me  !  I  was  beside  myself  with 
the  deepest  joy  I  had  ever  felt.  I  forgot 
formality,  caution,  prudence,  everything — 
and  before  I  knew  what  I  was  about,  or 
how  I  did  it,  my  lips  were  pressed  to  hers. 
The  pressure  was  returned,  one  moment, 
and  then  she  sprang  away,  blushing  and 
confused.  Think  what  you  may  of  it, 
reader,  that  was  one  of  the  happiest  mo 
ments  of  my  life. 

1  was  the  tirst  to  break  the  silence,  and 
[  trembled  as  I  did  so. 

"  i  have  come,  Miss  Lilian,"  I  stam 
mered,  "  to — to " 

"  I  understand, "she  murmured,  faintly, 
sinking  into  a  seat :  while  slowly  the  tears, 
that  could  not  be  suppressed,  stole  down 
her  nuw  pale  cheeks  :  "  I  understand  :  I 
am  about  to  lose  a — a — brother,  and  a — 
a — friend." 

Friend  !  heavens  !  how  cold  that  word  ! 
It  should  be  clipped  by  every  lexicograph 
er  ami  sent  out  of  existence!  Friend!  Why 
it  chilled  my  blood,  and.  for  the  moment 
made  mt-  an  enemy  of  the  language  which 
harbored  it.  Was  there,  then,  no  olher 
term  —one  a  little  more  ende  ring? — and 
if  so,  why  did  she  select  one  so  cold  ! — 
Perhaps  she  meant  it !  Perhaps  her  grief 
was  only  for  the  loss  of  a  brother,  and — if 
I  iiiiist  use  the  hateful  term — a  friend!  In 
that  case  she  could  not  love  me.  I  had 
ona  more  made  a  fool  of  myself.  But  I 
would  not  do  so  again.  I  would  let  her 
see  that  1  could  be  a*  indifferent  as  her- 
belf.  She  should  not  have  cause  to  boast 
TO  after  times — perhaps  when  wedded  to 


another — how  much  I  loved  her,  and  how 
she  pitied  me.  No  !  I  Would  be  cold  as 
marble — ay  !  as  a  Lapland  iceberg.  These 
thoughts  went  through  my  mind  rapidly ; 
and  scarcely  a  minute's  pause  succeeded, 
before  I  said,  coolly  enough,  heaven 
knows : 

"  Yes,  Miss  Huntly,  1  have  come  to  bid 
you  a  last  farewell,  and  have  but  a  few 
spare  moments  to  do  it  in." 

I  looked  at  her  indifferently  as  1  sjr  ke, 

and  oh  !  what  would  I  not  have  given  to 

i  recall  those  words  !     Her  soft,  blue  eyes 

!  turned  full   upon  me,  with  a  mingled  ex- 

\  pression  of  surprise  and  reproach,  which 

i  shall   never  forget.     Her  cheeks    grew 

j  more  deadly  pale  than  ever  ;  and  her  lips 

quivered,  as  she  sighed,  almost  inaudibly, 

my    name.     There    was    nc    withstanding 

this  ;   and  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment, 

1  threw  myself  at  her  feet,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  0,  Lilian  !  sweet  Lilian  !  I  have 
wrong-.-d  TUU.  You  love  me,  Lilian — you 
iove  me  !  " 

She  did  not  answer,  but  her  look  spoke 
volumes,  as  her  eyes  modestly  sought  the 
ground,  and  a  slight  flush  beautifully  tint 
ed  her  cheeks.  1  seized  her  hand  raptur 
ously,  and  pressed  it  warmly.  She  did 
not  return  the  pressure,  neither  did  she 
seek  to  avoid  it.  I  was  in  raptures,  and  I 
lelt  a  soul  of  eloquence  on  my  lips.  | 

"  1  wronged  you,  Lilian,"  I  said,  pas 
sionately.  "I  thought  you  were  cold- 
hearted,  because  you  called  me  friend. 
But  I  was  mistaken,  I  see  !  I  was  expect 
ing  a  warmer  term  ;  but  I  had  forgotten  it 
was  not  your  place  to  use  it  tirst.  Lilian, 
dear  Lilian — permit  me  so  to  call  you — I 
am  about  to  go  far  away  ;  and  God  only 
knows  when,  if  ever,  1  shall  return.  Par 
don  me,  then,  if  I  improve  the  present  mo 
ments,  and  speak  the  sentiments  of  my 
heart.  1  have  known  you.  Lilian,  from  a 
child;  but  I  have  known  you  only  to  love 
and  adore.  You  hav«,  been  the  ideal  of 
my  boyish  dreams,  either  sleeping  or  wak 
ing.  The  perfection  ol  divine  beauty, 
wii.li  me,  has  had  but  one  standard — youi 
own  sweet,  faultless  face  and  lorni.  Every 
happy  thought  of  my  existence,  has  some 
how  had  a  connection  with  yourself.  I 
could  nol  pic  lure  happiness,  withoui.  draw 
ing  you  ii;  glowing  colors,  the  foremost 
and  principal  figure.  1  have  thought  of 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR, 


you  by  day,  dreamed  of  you  by  night,  for 
many  years — have  longed  to  be  near  you, 
have  worshiped  you  in  secret,  and  yet 
have  never  dared  to  tell  you  so  till  now. 
Whenever  tempted  to  do  wrong,  your  love 
ly  face  has  been  my  Mentor,  to  chide  and 
restrain  me.  I  have  loved  you,  Lilian — 
deeply,  passionately,  devotedly  loved  you, 
with  the  first,  undefiled  love  of  an  ardent 
temperament — as  I  never  can  love  another. 
I  am  about  to  lea?e,  and  I  tell  you  this, 
and  only  ask  if  I  am  loved  in  return. 
Speak !  let  your  sweet  lips  confirm  what 
your  looks  have  spoken,  and  I  am  the 
happiest  of  human  beings  !  " 

1  ceased,  and  paused  for  an  answer. 
While  speaking,  the  head  of  the  fair  being 
at  whose  feet  I  kneeled,  gradually,  uncon 
sciously  as  it  were,  sunk  upon  my  shoulder, 
where  it  now  reposed  in  all  its  loveliness. 
She  raised  her  face,  crimson  with  blushes 
and  wet  with  tears.  Her  hand,  still  held 
in  mine,  trembled — and  her  lips,  as  she 
essayed  to  speak. 

"0,  Francis!"  she  at  length  articu 
lated — then  there  came  a  silence. 

"  Say  on,  Lilian,  and  make  me  happy ! " 

"  No,  no !  "  she  said,  quickly,  looking 
hurriedly  around  her,  as  if  fearful  of  the 
presence  of  another.  "  No,  no,  Francis — 
not  now — some  other  time." 
I  "  But  you  forget,  dear  Lilian,  that  I 
am  about  to  leave  you — that  there  may 


fumed  with  the  oil  of  roses  and  mu.sk,  took 
one  step  over  the  threshhold,  and  then, 
perceiving  me,  drew  quickly  back,  evi 
dently  as  much  surprised  and  embarrassed 
as  myself.  Meantime,  I  had  sprung  to  my 
feet,  with  a  whirlpool  of  feelings  in  my 
breast,  impossible  to  be  described — the 
predominant  of  which  were  anger,  morti 
fication  and  jealousy.  Lilian,  too,  had 
started  up,  and  turned  toward  the  strangei 
(stranger  to  me)  with  an  embarrassed  air. 

"  I  crave  pardon,"  said  the  intruder,  col 
oring,  "  for  my  seeming  rudeness  in  ap 
pearing  thus  unannounced.  I  found  the 
outer  door  ajar,  and  made  bold  to  step 
within,  without  ringing,  not  thinking  to 
meet  with  any  here  save  the  regular  mem 
bers  of  the  family." 

"  Then  you  must  either  be  a  constant 
visiter,  or  no  gentleman,  to  take  even  that 
liberty,"  I  rejoined  in  a  sarcastic  tone  of. 
some  warmth. 

The  face  of  the  intruder  became  aj 
scarlet  at  my  words,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
indignantly,  as  he  replied,  in  a  sharp, 
pointed  tone  : 

"  I  am  a  regular  visiter  here,  sir  !  bul 
your  face  is  new  to  me." 

"  Indeed  !  "  I  rejoined,  with  an  express 
ion  of  contempt,  turning  my  eyes  upon 
Lilian,  as  if  for  an  explanation. 

She  was  trembling  with  embarrassment, 
and  her  features  alternately  flushing  and 


never  be  a  time  like  the  present !     Only  |  paling,  like  the  rapid  playings  of  an  au 


love  me,  fair  one,  and  it  is  all  I 


she  stammered,  and 


aay  you 
ask." 

"  But— but- 
then  paused. 

"  Ha  !  then  I  have  after  all  mistaken 
friendship  for  love  !  "  I  returned,  quickly, 
starting  abruptly  to  my  feet,  and  feeling 
some  slight  symptoms  of  indignation. 

A*ain  her  soft,  reproachful  eye  met 
mine,  and  every  angry  impulse  vanished 
before  its  heavenly  ray. 

"  You  mistake  me,  Francis,"  she  said. 
"  I — I ''  another  pause. 

Again  was  I  at  her  feet,  ashamed  of  my 
hasty  display  of  jealous  temper. 

"  The  word  is  trembling  upon  your  lips, 
Lilian,"  I  exclaimed  ;  "  speak  it,  and " 

At  this  moment,  to  my  astonishment 
and  chagrin,  the  door  suddenly  opened, 
and  an  elegantly  dressed  gentleman,  some 
fire  or  six  years  my  senior,  highly  per- 


roro  borealis.  She  hastened  to  speak,  to 
cover  her  confusion,  and  prevent,  if  pos 
sible,  any  further  unpleasant  remarks. 

"This  —  this  —  is  Mr.  Wharton,  Fran 
cis,"  she  stammered  :  "a  gentleman  whc 
calls   here   occasionally.       Mr.   Whar  — 
Wharton,  Mr.  Leighton — an  old  friend  of 
mine." 

Of  course  the  rules  of  good  breeding 
required  us  to  bow  on  being  thus  formally 
introduced  to  each  other ;  and  this  we  did. 
but  very  stiffly,  and  with  an  air  of  secret 
hate  and  defiance.  That  moment  we 
knew  ourselves  to  be  rivals,  and  conse 
quently  enemies ;  for  it  was  impossible 
there  should  be  any  love  between  us.  As 
for  myself,  I  was  powerfully  excited,  and 
indignant  beyond  the  bounds  of  propri 
ety.  Hasty,  passionate,  and  jealous  in 
my  disposition,  I  wa*  unfit  to  lore  any 
one  ;  for  to  me, 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


"  Trifles  light  as  air, 
<T era  confirmations  strong  as  proofs  of  hoi  y  writ." 

in  consequence  of  which  I  only  loved,  to 
be  miserable,  and  render  the  object  loved 
equally  so. 

I  exchanged  no  more  words  with  Whar- 
lon,  but  turning  to  Lilian,  I  said,  with  all 
the  coolness  my  boiling  blood  would  al 
low  : 

"  So,  then,  the  riddle  is  solved.  Had 
you  been  frank  enough  to  have  informed 
me  that  you  expected  particular  company 
to-night,  I  should  certainly,  ere  this,  have 
ridden  you  of  my  presence." 

"  0,  Francis,"  cried  Lilian,  with  an  im 
ploring,  reproachful  look,  from  eyes  moist 
with  tears  ;  "  you  are  mistaken  ! — indeed, 
indeed  you  are  !" 

"  0,  yes,  of  course,"  I  replied,  bitterly, 
as  I  coolly  drew  on  my  glove,  and  prepared 
to  take  my  final  leave  :  "Of  course  I  am, 
or  was,  mistaken  ;  but  I  shall  not  be  like 
ly  to  be  again  immediately,  I  presume. 
Farewell,  Miss  Huntly!"  I  continued, 
coldly,  rudely  extending  to  her  my  gloved 
hand,  "  I  shall  probably  never  see  you 
again,  as  I  leave  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
morning." 

0,  what  a  look  she  gave  me  at  that  mo 
ment,  of  sweet,  heart-touching,  mournful 
reproach — a  look  which  haunted  me  for 
days,  for  weeks,  for  months,  for  years — a 
look  which,  were  I  an  artist,  would  per- 
ad venture  be  found  upon  every  face  I 
painted. 

il  Francis  !  "  she  gasped,  and  sunk  faint 
ing  and  colorless  upon  a  seat. 

This,  in  spite  of  my  jealous  feelings, 
touched  me  sensibly,  and  I  w£s  on  the 
point  of  springing  to  her  aid,  when  Whar- 
ton  passed  me  for  the  purpose.  I  could 
stand  no  more — the  devil  was  in  me — and 
with  a  scarcely  suppressed  imprecation 
upon  my  lips,  I  rushed  out  of  the  apart 
ment. 

In  the  hall  I  met  my  friend  Charles. 

"Ha!    Frank,"    he    exclaimed,    "you 

seem  flurried.     What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Ask   me   no   questions,"    I   replied, 


feinting  with  my  finger  to  the  apaitment 
had  just  quitted.  "  Give  my  kind  re 
gards  to  your  parents,  and  bid  them  fare 
well  for  me." 

"  But  stay  a  moment." 

"  No !  I  must  go  ;  "  and  1  seized  my 
hat  and  made  for  the  door. 

"  All  ready  for  the  start  in  the  morning. 
I  suppose,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Ay,  for  to-night,  if  you  choose,"  Ire- 
plied,  as  I  hurried  down  the  steps  leading 
to  the  street. 

I  paused  a  moment,  as  my  feet  touched 
the  pavement,  and  as  1  did  so,  heard  the 
voice  of  Huntly  summoning  the  servants 
to  the  aid  of  his  sister.  I  waited  to  hear 
no  more,  but  darted  away  down  the  street, 
like  a  madman,  scarcely  knowing,  and 
caring  less,  whither  I  went. 

Such  was  my  parting  with  Lilian  Huntiy. 

At  last  I  found  my  way  home,  and  soft 
ly  stealing  to  my  chamber,  threw  myself 
upon  the  bed —  but  not  to  sleep.  I  slept 
none  that  night.  My  brain  was  like  a 
heated  furnace.  I  rolled  to  and  fro  in  the 
greatest  mental  torture  I  had  'ever  en 
dured. 

Morn  came  at  last,  and  with  it  Charles 
Huntly,  all  prepared  for  the  journey.  I 
ate  a  morsel,  pointed  out  my  trunks,  sighed 
a  farewell  to  my  parents,  jumped  into  the 
carriage,  and  was  whirled  away  with  great 
rapidity. 

Charles  looked  pale  and  sad,  and  was 
not  loquacious.  I  wanted  him  to  talk — to 
speak  of  Lilian — but  he  carefully  avoided 
any  allusion  to  her.  I  was  dying  to  know 
how  he  left  her,  but  would  not  question 
him  on  the  subject.  I  inquired  how  he 
left  the  family,  however,  and  he  replied : 

"  Indifferently  well." 

"  Well,"  sighed  I,  to  myself,  "she  lovee 
another,  so  why  should  I  care  ?  " 

Half-past  seven,  and  the  rushing,  roll 
ing,  rumbling  cars,  were  bearing  us  swift 
ly  away.  Fifteen  minutes  more,  and  the 
city  of  our  nativity  had  faded  from  our 
view,  perhaps  forever. 

WTe  were  speeding  on  ward- -thirty  miles 
per  hour — westward  ho  !  for  Oregon. 


u 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR 


CHAPTER    III. 

REFLECTIONS THE     GREAT     METROPOLIS 

T1IK    WORM)   IN   MINIATURE THE   NATION 
AL    THEATER  T—  ALARM  FIRE AWFUL 

PEKIL PROVIDENTIAL    ESCAPE,   ETC. 

STEAMBOATS  and  railroads  !  what  mighty 
inven  lions  !  With  what  startling  velocity 
they  hurry  us  along,  until  even  the  over 
charged  mind  almost  feels  it  lacks  the 
power  to  keep  pace  with  their  progress. 
Whoever  has  passed  over  the  Boston  and 
Providence  route  to  New  York,  will  under 
stand  me.  One  mile-post  succeeds  an 
other  with  a  rapidity  almost  incredible ; 
and  ere  he,  who  travels  it  for  the  tirst 
time,  is  aware  that  half  the  distance  is 
completed,  he  finds  himself  in  view  of  the 
capital  of  old  Rhode  Island. 

So  it  was  with  myself.  I  had  never 
been  from  home,  and  knew  little  of  the 
speed  with  which  the  adventurer  is  car 
ried  across  this  mighty  continent.  I  had 
beard  men  speak  of  it,  it  is  true  ;  but  I 
had  never  realized  it  till  now.  Perhaps  I 
was  longer  on  the  road  than  I  imagined. 
When  the  heart  is  full,  we  take  but  little 
note  of  external  objects,  or  the  flight  of 
time  —  time  which  is  bearing  us  to  the 
great  ocean  of  eternity.  My  mind  was 
oppressed  and  busy.  1  was  thinking  of 
home,  of  fond  parents  I  had  left  behind, 
and  all  the  joys  of  childhood,  which  I 
eould  never  witness  again.  A  thousand 
things,  a  thousand  scenes,  which  I  had 
never  thought  of  before,  now  crowded  my 
brain  with  a  vividness  that  startled  me. 
They  were  gone  now — forever  gone  !  I 
I  had  bid  them  a  last  adieu.  With  one 
bold  leap,  I  had  thrown  off  youth  and 
become  a  man — a  man  to  think  and  act 
for  myself.  My  collegiate  days,  too,  were 
over  —  days  which  memory  now  recalled 
with  sad  and  painful  feelings. 

True,  my  playmate,  my  fellow  student, 
my  chum,  my  friend,  was  by  my  side. 
But  he,  too,  was  sad  and  thoughtful.  He, 
too,  was  thinking  of  home  and  friends,  the 
domestic  happy  fireside,  and  all  that  he 
had  left  behind.  His  wonted  gaiety,  his 
great  flow  of  spirits,  his  enthusiasm,  were 
gone  ;  and  he  was  silent  now — dumb  as  a 
carved  image  in  marble. 


I  gazed    upon   him,  and  my   the  ugh  U 

ew  heavier,  sadder.  He  was  now  so 
like  Lilian — sweet,  loved,  but  ah!  dis 
carded  Lilian  !  How  could  I  avoid  think 
ing  of  her,  when  I  gazed  upon  the  pale, 
sad  features  of  her  only  brother !  I  did 
think  of  her ;  of  how  I  had  left  her  ;  and 
now  that  miles  were  gaining  between  us, 
I  bitterly  accused  myself  of  injustice. 
Why  did  I  leave  her  so  abruptly,  and  in 
such  a  condition  ?  My  heart  smote  me, 
I  had  wronged  her — wronged  her  at  the 
moment  of  parting,  and  put  reparation  out 
of  my  power.  Why  had  I  done  so  ?  Why 
did  I  not  part  with  her  as  a  friend  ?  If 
she  did  not  love  me,  it  was  not  her  fault, 
and  I  had  no  right  to  abuse  her.  I  had 
acted  hastily,  imprudently,  unjustly.  I 
knew  it — I  felt  it — felt  it  keenly  ;  and, 
oh !  what  would  I  not  have  sacrificed  for 
one,  even  one,  moment  with  her,  to  sue 
for  pardon.  Alas  !  alas  !  my  reflections 
on  my  conduct  had  come  too  late — too 
late. 

Thus  I  thought,  and  thus  I  felt,  while 
time  and  progress  were  alike  unnoted,  un- 
cared  for.  What  cared  I  now  for  time  ? 
what  cared  I  now  for  speed  ?  My  mind 
was  a  hell  of  torture  almost  beyond  endu 
rance,  and  I  only  sought  to  escape  myself 
but  sought  in  vain. 

"Passengers  for  the  steamboat,"  were 
the  first  sounds  that  aroused  me  from  a 
painful  reverie. 

I  looked  up  with  a  start,  and  lo  !  I  was 
in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  hundreds 
were  round  me.  The  cars  had  ceased 
their  motion,  and  one  destination  waa 
gained.  At  first  I  could  not  credit  my 
senses.  There  must  be  some  mistake — 
we  were  in  the  wrong  city  !  But  I  waa 
soon  convinced  of  my  error ;  and  found, 
alas  !  that  all  was  too  truly,  too  coldly 
correct ;  for  on  the  impulse  of  the  mo 
ment,  I  had  counted  on  a  return  to  my 
native  soil,  and — and — I  will  not  say  what 
else. 

I  roused  my  friend,  who  also  looked 
wonderingly  about  him  as  if  suddenly 
awakened  from  a  dream,  and  heaved  a  t 
long,  deep  sigh — a  dirge  to  buried  scene* 
and  friends  away.  Mechanically  we  en 
tered  a  carriage,  were  hurried  to  the  boat, 
and  soon  were  gliding  over  the  deep  blue 
waters  of  Long  Island  Sound. 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


15 


Early  the  next  morning  T  beheld,  for  the 
first  time,  the  lofty  spires  of  that  great 
Babylon  of  America,  ycleped  New  York. 
What  a  place  of  business,  bustle,  and  con 
fusion  !  What  hurrying  to  and  fro  !  What 
rushing,  scrambling,  crowding,  each  bent 
on  his  own  selfish  end,  and  caring  nothing 

'  O  O 

for  his  neighbor,  but  all  for  his  neighbor's 
purse  !  How  cold  the  faces  of  the  citizens 
seem  to  a  stranger  !  There  are  no  wel 
come  smiles  —  no  kind  greetings — all  are 
wrapped  up  in  their  own  pursuits  :  and  he 
feels  at  once,  although  surrounded  by 
thousands,  that  he  is  now  indeed  alone, 
•without  a  friend,  save  such  as  can  be 
"bought. 

On  the  ocean,  on  the  prairie,  or  in  the 
forest,  man  is  not  alone  ;  he  does  not  feel 
alone  ;  for  he  is  with  Nature  in  all  her 
wildness — in  all  her  beauty  ;  and  she  ever 
has  a  voice,  which  reaches  his  inner  heart, 
and,  in  sweet  companionship,  whispers 
him  to  behold  her  wonders,  and  through 
her  look  up  to  the  Author  of  all — her  God 
and  his  '  But  in  the  great  city  it  is  differ 
ent — vastly  different.  Here  all  is  artifi 
cial,  studied,  and  cold  ;  and  as  we  gaze 
Upon  the  thousands  that  throng  the  streets, 
and  mark  the  selfish  expressions  on  the 
fa«es  of  each,  we  feel  an  inward  loathing, 
a  disgust  for  mankind,  and  long  to  steal 
away  to  some  quiet  spot  and  commune 
with  our  own  thoughts  in  silence. 

Such  were  my  reflections,  as  the  rum 
bling  vehicle  whirled  me  over  the  pave 
ments  to  that  prince  of  hotels,  (in  name 
and  wealth  at  least)  the  Astor  House. 
True,  I  had  been  born  and  brought  up  in 
a  city  ;  but  still  these  rriatters  "ted  never 
forced  themselves  so  strongly'  updn  my 
mind  as  now.  I  was  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
city,  and,  with  my  otherwise  misanthropic 
feelings,  I  doubly  felt  them  in  all  their 
force. 

The  window  of  the  apartment  assigned 
me  at  the  Astor  House,  looked  out  upon 
that  world-renowned  thoroughfare,  Broad 
way.  Dinner  over,  I  seated  myself  at  the 
casement  and  gazed  forth.  What  a  world 
in  miniature  was  spread  before  my  eyes  \ 
What  a  whirlpool  of  confusion  and  excite 
ment  !  Before  me,  a  little  to  my  left,  was 
the  Park — its  trees  beautifully  decorated 
with  the  flowers  and  leaves  of  spring,  and 
•te  many  -winding  walks  thronged  with 


human  beings.  From  out  its  center  rose 
the  City  Hall — the  hall  of  justice.  Along 
one  side  ran  Broadway — along  the  other. 
Park  Row.but  shooting  off  at  an  angle  from 
the  main  thoroughfare  of  the  former — 
both  crowded  with  carriages  of  all  de 
scriptions,  from  the  splendid  vehicle  of 
fashion,  with  its  servants  in  livery,  and 
its  silver-trimmed  harness,  down  to  the 
common  dray  —  crowded  with  footmen, 
from  the  prince  to  the  beggar,  all  hurrying 
and  jostling  together.  Here  sauntered  the 
lady  and  gentlemai  of  fashion,  robed  in 
the  most  costly  apparel  money  could  pro 
cure,  bedecked  with  diamonds  and  gold, 
sapphire  and  ruby;  there,  side  by  side,  on 
the  same  pavement,  aknost  touching  them, 
stroled  the  poor,  forlorn,  pale-faced,  hol 
low-eyed  mendicant,  partially  clothed  in 
filthy  rags,  and  perhaps  actually  dying  for 
a  morsel  of  food.  Great  Heaven !  what 
a  comment  on  humanity  ! 

I  have  mentioned  only  the  extremes ; 
but  fancy  both  sexes — of  all  grades,  sizes, 
and  nations  between — and  you  have  a  pic 
ture  which  no  city  on  the  American  con 
tinent  save  New  York  can  present. 

The  evening  found  my  friend  and  my 
self  at  the  National  Theatre — then  new, 
splendidly  decorated,  and  in  successful 
operation.  It  was  crowded  almost  to  suf 
focation  with  the  elite  of  the  city.  Round 
ed  arms  and  splendid  busts,  set  off"  with 
jewels — rosy  cheeks,  and  sparkling  eyes, 
were  displayed  on  every  hand,  by  the 
bewitching  light  of  magnificent  glass-tas- 
selled  chandeliers.  But  of  these  I  took  lit 
tle  note.  My  attention  was  fixed  upon 
the  play.  It  was  that  impassioned  crea 
tion  of  Shakspeare,  Romeo  and  Juliet. 
My  mind  was  just  in  a  condition  to  feel 
the  burning  words  of  the  lovers  in  all  their 
force  ;  and  I  concentrated  my  whole  soul 
upon  it,  listened  every  word,  watched 
every  motion,  to  the  exclusion  of  every 
thing  else.  The  .  first  and  second  acts 
were  already  over,  and  the  last  scene  of 
the  third,  the  parting  between  the  lovers, 
was  on  the  stage.  A  breathless  silence 
reigned  around.  Every  eye  was  fixed 
upon  the  players — every  head  inclined  a 
little  forward,  to  catch  the  slightest  tones 
of  the  speakers.  Already  had  the  ardent 
and  unfortunate  Romeo  sighed  the  tender 
words  : 


16 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR, 


"  Farewell !  I  will  omit  no  opportunity 
That  may  convey  my  greetings,  love,  to  tliee  ;  '* 

and  the  answer  of  Juliet, 

"  O,  think'st  thou,  we  shall  ever  meet  again?  " 

was  even  trembling  on  her  lips — when, 
suddenly,  to  the  consternation  and  horror 
of  all,  there  arose  the  terrific  cry  of, 

"  Fire  !  fir  3 ! — the  theatre  is  on  fire  !  " 

Heavens  !  what  a  scene  ensued — and 
what  feelings  came  over  me  !  Never  shall 
I  forget  either.  In  a  moment  all  was 
frightful  confusion,  as  each  sought  to  gain 
the  street.  Startling  shrieks,  appalling 
yells,  and  hideous  groans,  resounded  on 
all  sides.  Hundreds,  I  might  say  thou 
sands,  rushed  pell-mell  to  the  doors,  to  es 
cape  the  devouring  element, which,  already 
lapping  the  combustible  scenery,  was  seen 
shooting  upward  its  lurid  tongues,  and 
heard  hissing,  and  snapping,  and  crackling, 
in  its  rapid  progress  over  the  devoted  build 
ing.  I  grasped  the  arm  of  my  friend,  and 
cried  :  "  Rush,  Charley,  for  your  life !  "  and 
sprang  forward. 

The  next  moment  I  felt  myself  seized 
from  behind,  and  the  voice  of  my  friend 
Khouted  in  my  ear  : 

' '  Hold  !   Frank — we  must  save  her  ! " 

"Whom?" 

"  Yonder!  See  !  they  have  crowded  her 
back  !  —  and  now  —  great  God  !  she  has 
fallen  over  into  the  pit !  " 

I  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by 
the  finger  of  Huntly,  and  beheld  a  beau 
tiful  female,  vainly  struggling  to  reach  the 
door.  As  he  spoke,  a  sudden  rush  for 
ward  crowded  her  back  to  the  railing 
which  divided  her  from  the  excited  mass 
of  beings  in  the  pit.  One  moment  she 
balanced  on  the  railing,  and  the  next,  with 
a  cry  of  terror,  fell  upon  the  heads  of 
those  below.  At  any  other  time  she 
would  ,have  been  cared  for ;  but  now  all 
were  wild  with  terror,  and  thought  only 
of  themselves  ;  and  instead  of  seeking  to 
aid,  they  allowed  her  to  sink  under  their 
feet.  Save  my  friend  and  I,  no  one  seemed 
to  heed  her.  With  a  cry  of  horror,  I 
leaped  forward  to  rescue  her  from  a  horri 
ble  death  But  my  friend  was  already 
before  me.  One  bound,  and  Charles 
Huntly  was  among  the  wedged  mass  be 
low,  and  exerting  all  his  strength  to  reach 
the  prostrate  form  of  the  lady,  who  was 


now  being  trod  to  death  under  the  feet  of 
the  rushing  multitude.  I  would  have 
sprang  over  the  railing  myself,  but  I  saw 
it  would  be  useless  ;  one  was  better  than 
two ;  and  I  paused  and  watched  the  pro 
gress  of  my  friend  with  an  anxiety  better 
imagined  than  described. 

So  dense  was  the  mass,  so  closely 
wedged,  that  for  a  time  all  the  efforts  of 
Huntly  to  reach  the  unfortunate  creature 
were  vain  ;  while  the  glaring  light,  and 
the  roar  of  the  flames,  as  they  eagerly 
leaped  forward  to  the  dome  over  headj 
rendered  the  scene  truly  dismal  and  awful. 

At  length  the  crowd  grew  thinner,  as 
it  poured  through  the  open  doorway ;  and 
renewing  his  exertions,  my  friend  shortly 
gained  the  side  of  the  unknown.  He 
stooped  down  to  raise  her,  and  I  trembled 
for  his  safety,  for  I  saw  numbers  fairly 
pressing  upon  him.  "With  a  Herculean 
effort,  that  must  Lave  'exhausted  all  his 
animal  powers,  I  beheld  him  rise  to  his 
feet,  with  the  fair  unknown  seemingly 
lifeless  in  his  arms.  I  uttered  a  cry  of  joy, 
as  he  staggered  toward  me  with  his  burden. 

"Quick!  quick!  this  way — give  her 
here  ! "  I  shouted,  bending  over  the  rail 
ing  and  extending  my  arms  toward  her. 

Huntly  staggered  forward,  and  the  next 
moment  my  grasp  was  upon  her,  and  she 
was  in  my  arms. 

"  Fly  !  Frank — fast — for  God's  sake  ! 
and  give  her  air !  "  gasped  Huntly,  in  a 
faint,  exhausted  tone. 

I  cast  one  glance  at  her  pale,  lovely  fea 
tures,  on  which  were  a  few  spots  of  blood, 
from  a  contusion  on  the  head,  and  then 
darted  over  the  benches  to  the  door,  bid 
ding  my  friend  follow,  but  looking  not 
behind. 

The  boxes  were  now  empty,  and  the 
doors  but  slightly  blocked,  so  that  I  had 
little  difficulty,  to  use  a  stage  expression, 
in  making  my  exit.  The  street,  however, 
was  crowded  with  those  just  escaped,  and 
others  attracted  hither  by  the  alarm  of 
tire.  All  was  excitement  and  dismay. 
Parents  were  rushing  to  and  fro,  seeking 
•their  children  —  children  their  parents ; 
wives  and  maidens  their  husbands  and 
lovers,  and  vice  versa. 

I  pushed  my  way  through  the  crowd  as 
best  I  could,  with  my  lovely  burden  in  my 
arms,  and  at  length  reached  the  opposiU 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


ado-walk,  where  I  paused  to  rest,  and, 
if  possible,  to  restore  the  fair  one  to  con 
sciousness.  As  I  began  chafing  her  tem 
ples,  I  heard  a  female  voice  shriek,  in 
agonizing  tones  : 

"  Good  God  !  will  no  one  save  my  child 
— -•  my  only  child — my  daughter — the  idol 
of  my  heart !  " 

!•  looked  around  me,  and  beheld,  by  the 
light  of  the  burning  building,?  »  middle- 
aged  female,  richly  clad,  only  a  iV-w  paces 
distant,  violently  wringing  'her  hands,  in 
•mental  agony,  and  looking  imploringly, 
first,  at  the  already  trembling  structure, 
and  then  into  trie  faces  of  the  bystanders, 
as  if  in  search  of  an  answer  to  her  heart 
rending  appeal. 

"  Oh  God!  oh  God!  save  her!  save  her  ! 
—she  must  not,  shall  not  die  !     I  will  give 
a  thousand  dollars  for  her  life  !  " 

A  thought  struck  me.  Perhaps  she  was 
die  mother  of  the  senseless  being  I  held  ; 
and  instantly  I  raised  her  in  my  arms  and 
darted  forward. 

"  Is  this  your  daughter,  lady  ?  "  I  cried, 
as  I  came  up. 

She  looked  wildly  about  her — one  pain 
ful  glance — and  then,  with  a  shriek,  sprang 
to  and  threw  her  arms  around  the  fair 
creature's  neck,  and  burst  into  tears. 

".God  !  I  thank  thee  !  "  were  the,  first 
.  articulate  words  from  her  now  quivering 
lips.  "I  have  got  my  daughter  again  !  " 
and  snatching  her  from  my  arms,  she 
pressed  kiss  after  kiss  upon  her  lips,  with 
all  the  wild,  passionate  fondness  of  a  mo 
ther.  "Ha!  is  she  dead  ?"  she  cried,  with 
a  look  of  horror,  appealing  to  me. 

"  Only  fainted,"  was  my  reply,  made  at 
a  venture,  for  I  dared  not  confirm  my  own 
fears. 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  God  be  praised  ! — I  see  ! 
I  see  !  She  is  returning  to  consciousness. 
But  this  blood — this  wound  ?" 

"  A  slight  fall,"  I  answered. 

"  And  you,  sir — you?  I  promised  a  thou 
sand  dollars.  Here  is  part,  and  my  card 

Call  to-night,  or  to-morrow,  at  — (I 

failed  to  catch  the  name)  and  the  balance 
shall  be  yours." 

"  I  did"  not  save  her  for  money  ;  in  fact, 
I  did  not  save  her  at  all — it  was  my  friend," 
I  replied,  taking  from  her  extended  hand 
the  card,  but  refusing  the  purse  which  it 
ilso  held. 


"  And  where  is  your  friend  ?"  she  asked, 
breathlessly. 

Heavens  !  what  a  shock  her  Avords  pro 
duced  !  Where  was  my  friend,  indeed  !  1 
looked  hurriedly  around,  among  the  swny- 
ing  multitude,  but  saw  nothing  of  Charles 
Huntly.  A  terrible  thought  seized  me. 
Perhaps  he  had -not  made  his  escape  !  I 
cast  one  glance  at  the  burning  pile,  and, 
to  my  consignation,  beheld  the  flames  ai 
ready  bursting  from  the  roof.  Had  he  es- 
'caped  ? — and  if  not — if  not  ! — great  God, 
what  a  thought !  I  waited  to  say,  to  hear 
no  more,  but  turned  and  rushed  into  the 
swaying  mass,  shouting  the  name  of  my 
schoolmate.  No  answer  was  returned.  I 
shouted  louder — but  still  heard  not  his  well 
known  voice.  Great  God  !  what  feelings 
came  over  me  ! — pen  cannot  describe  them. 
Onward, onward, still  I  pressed  onward,  and 
shouted  at  every  step — but,  alas!  no  answer. 

At  length  I  reached  the  door  of  the  the 
atre  leading  to  the  boxes.  It  was  filled 
with  smoke,  passing  outward,  through 
which  I  could  catch  glimpses  of  the  de 
vouring  flames,  and  hear  their  awful  roar. 
One  pause — an  instant  only — and  with  his 
name  upon  my  lips,  I  darted  into  the  shak 
ing  building.  I  gained  the  boxes,  and 
found  the  heat  of  the  flames  almost  un 
bearable.  They  had  already  reached  the 
railing  nearest  the  stage,  and  overhead 
had  eaten  through  the  roof,  from  which 
burning  cinders  were  dropping  upon  the 
blazing  benches  in  the  pit.  The  smoke 
was  stifling,  and  I  could  scarcely  breathe. 
I  looked  down  where  I  had  last  seen  my 
friend,  and  beheld  a  dark  object  on  the 
floor.  I  called  Huntly  by  name,  in  a  voice 
of  agony.  -Meto  ought  the  object  stirred, 
and  I  fancied  I  heard  a  groan.  The  next 
moment  I  was  in  the  pit,  bending  over  the 
object.  Gracious  God  !  it  was  Huntly ! 
From  some  cause  he  had  not  been  able  to 
escape.  Instantly  I  raised  him  in  my  arms, 
and,  with  a  tremendous  effort,  threw  him 
into  the  boxes.  I  attempted  to  follow,  but 
failed  The  smoke  was  proving  too  much, 
for  me,  and  the  heat  becoming  intense. 
Again  I  tried,  with  like  success,  fbegau 
to  feel  diz»y,  and  faint,  and  thought  I  was 
perishing.  I  sank  back  and  looked  up  at 
the  roof.  I  could  see  it  trembling.  .  A  few 
moments,  and  it  would  be  upon  me.  God 
of  Heaven  !  what  a  death  1 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


At  this  moment  of  despair,  I  felt  a  cur 
rent  of  air  rushing  in  upon  me.  It  revived 
me,  and  I  made  a  third  attempt  to  clamber 
into  the  boxes.  Joy !  joy  !  I  succeed 
ed.  I  caught  hold  of  Charles,  and,  with 
my  remaining  strength,  dragged  him  to 
the  door,  and  into  the  open  air.  Some  five 
or  six  persons  now  rushed  to  my  assistance, 
and  in  another  moment  I  had  gained  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street.  As  I  did  so, 
I  heard  a  thundering  noise  behind  me.  I 
turned  quickly  round,  and  no  pen  can 
describe  my  feelings  when  I  understood 
the  cause.  The  roof  of  the  building  had 
fallen  in,  and  bright  sheets  of  flame,  and 
burning  cinders,  were  shooting  upward  on 
the  dark  pall  of  the  arching  heavens.  I 
had  just  escaped  with  my  life  ;  and  if  ever 
I  uttered  a  prayer  of  sincere  gratitude  to 
the  Author  of  my  being,  it  was  then. 

As  I  stood  gazing  upon  the  remainder  of 
the  structure,  I  saw  the  walls  totter  ;  and 
ere  I  had  time  to  move  from  the  spot,  the 
front  wall  went  down,  with  a  thundering 
sound,  and  lay  a  pile  of  smoking  ruins — 
a  part  falling  inward,  and  a  part  outward. 
The  heat  was  now  excessive  ;  and  as  I 
sought  to  bear  my  unconscious  friend  fur 
ther  from  the  fire,  the  side  walls  plunged 
inward,  leaving  only  the  back  wall  stand 
ing.  This  now  seemed  to  waver — totter — 
and  then,  great  Heaven  !  it  fell  outward, 
upon  an  adjoining  building,  crushing  in  the 
roof,  and,  as  I  afterward  learned,  killing 
one  of  its  inmates  almost  instantly. 

By  this  time  Huntly  had  begun  to  re 
vive,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  perfect 
ly  restored — the  smoke  and  his  exertions, 
only,  having  overcome  him.  He  stared 
around  him  for  a  monient  in  wonder,  and 
then  seemed  to  comprehend  all.  Grasp 
ing  my  hand,  with  a  nervous  pressure,  he 
exclaimed : 

"  Thank  God  !  we  are  all  saved;  though 
I  thought  all  was  over  with  me.     I  see,  j 
dear  Frank,  I  owe  all  to  you.      But  the 
lady,  Frank  1 " 

"  I  left  her  safe  in  the  arms  of  her  mo 
ther.  " 

"  Tlfonk  God,  again,  for  that !  But  who 
is  she  ?  and  where  does  she  live  ?  "  and  I 
felt  the  grasp  of  Charles  tighten  upon  my 
arm. 

"  I  know  neither ;  but  I  have  her  mo 
ther's  card  here. " 


"  Quick  !  quick  !  give  it  me  !  "  cried 
Huntly,  with  an  impatience  that  surprised 
me. 

But  I  was  mistaken  ;  I  had  not  the  card, 
it  was  lost ;  and  with  it,  all  clue  to  the  per 
sons  in  question.  With  an  expression  of 
deep  and  painful  disappointment,  my  friend 
turned  away. 

"  But  AVC  may  yet  find  thorn,  "  I  said  ; 
"  they  were  here  a  few  minute  since  " 

"  Where,  Frank — where  ?  " 

"  Yonder;  "  and  I  hastened  to  the  spot 
where  I  had  left  them  ;  but  to  the  dis 
appointment  of  myself,  as  well  as  Huntly 
they  were  gone. 

I  made  inquiries  of  all  around,  but  no 
body  had  seen,  or  knew  any  thing  of  them. 

"  Always  my  luck,  Frank,"  said  Huntly, 
with  a  siyh  ;  and  jumping  into  a  hack,  we 
were  shortly  set  down  at  the  steps  of  the 
Astor. 

That  night  I  dreamed  of  fire — of  res 
cuing  Lilian  Huntly  from  the  flames. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  were  onc« 
more  upon  our  long  journey  —  swifl.ly 
speeding  toward  the  far,  Far  West 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    OHIO THE    HIBERNIAN ARRIVAL   19 

CINCINNATI A  FIRE A    FIGHT NARROW 

ESCAPE THE    JOURNEY    RESUMED. 

IT  was  a  calm,  beautiful  day,  that  found 
myself  and  friend  on  the  hurricane  deck 
of  a  magnificent  steamer,  and  gliding 
swiftly  down  the  calm,  silvery  waters  of 
that  winding,  lovely,  and  romantic  stream, 
the  Ohio,  or  La  Belle  Riviere.  We  had 
passed  through  Philadelphia,  Baltimore, 
and  Pittsburgh, without  stopping,  and  vver« 
now  speeding  over  the  waters  of  this  rivei 
on  our  journey  to  the  Far  West  Nevei 
had  I  seen  a  stream  before  so  fascinating 
in  all  its  attractions.  On  my  right  was 
the  State  of  Ohio — on  my  left,  those  of 
Virginia  and  Kentucky  ;  and  en  either 
hand,  beautiful  villages,  farms,  and  plea 
sure  grounds,  with  tree,  blade,  and  flowei 
in  the  delightful  bloom  of  a  pleasant  spring. 
Here  was  a  hill  clotlied  with  trees,  Teach 
ing  even  to,  overhanging,  and  mirroring 
their  green  forms  in  the  glassy  tide  ;  ther« 
a  smiling  plain,  stretching  gracefully  away 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


19 


from  the  river's  bank,  teeming  with  the 
growing  products  of  the  husbandman ; 
while  yonder  a  beautiful  lawn,  anon  a  vil 
lage,  or  a  pleasant  farmhouse,  rendered 
the  whole  scene  picturesque  and  lovely 
beyond  description. 

The  longer  I  gazed,  the  more  I  felt  my 
spirits  revive,  until  I  began  to  resume 
something  of  the  joyousness  of  by-gone 
days.  A  similar  effect  I  could  perceive 
was  beginning  to  tell  upon  my  friend. 
The  first  keen  pang  of  leaving  home  was 
becoming  deadened.  We  were  now  in  a 
part  of  the  world  abounding  with  every 
thing  delightful,  and  felt  that  our  adven 
tures  had  really  begun.  We  thought  of 
home  and  friends  occasionally,  it  is  true  ; 
but  then  it  was  only  occasionally ;  and 
mingling  with  our  feelings,  were  thoughts 
of  the  present  and  glorious  anticipations 
for  the  future.  We  were  strong,  in  the 
very  prime  of  life,  and  bound  on  a  journey 
of  adventure,  where  everything  being  en 
tirely  new,  was  calculated  to  withdraw  our 
minds  from  the  scenes  we  had  bid  adieu. 
The  future  is  always  bright  to  the  imagi 
nation  of  the  young  and  inexperienced  ; 
and  we  looked  forward  with  delight  to 
scenes  on  and  beyond  the  broad  and 
mighty  prairies  of  the  west. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  at  length, 
with  something  of  his  former  light-hearted 
nir,  "  what  think  you  of  this  ?  " 

"  It  is  superlatively  beautiful,"  I  ex 
claimed,  with  enthusiam. 

"  I  agree  with  you  there,  Frank,"  he 
replied  ;  "  but  then  this  will  all  sink  into 
insignificance,  when  we  come  to  behold 
what  lies  beyond  the  bounds  of  civiliza 
tion.  0,  I  am  in  raptures  with  my  jour 
ney.  What  a  beautiful  land  is  this  West ! 
I  do  not  wonder  that  emigration  sets  hith- 
erward,  for  it  seems  the  Paradise  of 
earth." 

"  Ay,  it  does  indeed." 

"  But  I  say,  Frank,  there  is  one  thing 
we  have  overlooked." 

"  Well,  Charley,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  we  must  engage  a  servant  to 
look  after  our  baggage  ;  and  so  let  us  em 
ploy  one  with  whom  we  can  have  a  little 
sport.  1  am  dying  for  a  hearty  laugh." 

"  But  that  mav  not  be  so  easy  to  do," 
said  I. 

"  Pshaw  !  don't  you  believe  a  word  of 


it.  Now  I  have  been  standing  here  for 
the  last  ten  minutes,  laying  my  plans,  and 
if  you  have  no  objection,  I  will  try  and 
put  them  in  operation." 

"  None  at  all,"  I  returned ;  "  but  let  me 
hear  them  first." 

"  Do  you  see  that  fellow  yonder, 
Frank?"  pointing  to  a  rather  green-look 
ing  specimen  of  the  Emerald  Isle. 

«  I  do.     Well  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  try  him  ;  so  come 
along  and  see  the  result ;  "  and  with  this 
Huntley  strode  to  the  stern  of  the  boat, 
where  the  son  of  Erin  was  standing,  with 
his  arms  crossed  on  his  back,  gazing 
around  him  with  an  air  of  wondering 
curiosity. 

He  was  a  rare  specimen  of  a  Paddy,  and 
bore  all  the  marks  of  fresh  importation. 
His  coat  was  a  wool-mixed  gray,  with 
bright  metal  buttons,  and  very  short  skirts. 
His  pants  were  made  of  a  greenish  fus 
tian,  the  upper  portion  of  which  barely 
united  with  a  very  short  vest.  Heavy 
brogans  encased  his  feet,  and  a  hat,  with 
a  rim  of  an  inch  in  width,  all  the  worse 
for  wear,  beneath  which  his  sandy  hair 
came  low  upon  his  brow,  covered  his  head. 
A  large  mouth,  pug  nose,  ruddy  cheeks, 
and  bright,  cunning  gray  eyes,  denoted 
him  daring,  witty,  and  humorous.  In  fact, 
he  was  Paddy  throughout,  dress  and  all  ; 
and  being  a  strong,  hearty  fellow,  was  just 
the  one  to  suit  us. 

"  Well,  Pat,  a  handsome  country,  this," 
said  Huntly,  in  a  familiar  tone,  as  he  came 
up  to  him. 

"  Troth,  now,  ye  may  well  say  that  same, 
your  honor,  barring  the  name  of  Pat,  which 
isn't  mine  at  all,  at  all,  but  simply  Teddy 
O'Lagherty  jist,"  replied  the  Hibernian, 
with  great  volubility,  in  the  real,  rolling 
Irish  brogue,  touching  his  hat  respectfully. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Teddy — though  I  suppose 
it  makes  little  difference  to  you  what  name 
you  get?" 

"  Difference,  is  it,  ye're  spaking  of  ?  To 
the  divil  wid  ye  now,  for  taking  me  for  a 
spalpeen  !  D'ye  be  afther  thinking,  now, 
I  don't  want  the  name  that  me  mother's 
grandfather,  that  was  a  relation  to  her, 
barring  that  he  was'nt  her  grandfather  at 
all,  but  only  her  daddy,  give  me  ?  " 

"  O,  well  then,  never  mind — I  will  call 
you  Teddy,"  said  Charles,  laughing,  and 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR 


winking  at-me.  |  "  But  I  say,  Teddy,  whore 
are  you  bound  ?  " 

"  Bound,  is  it,  ye 're  asking  ?  Och  !  I'm 
not  bound  at  all,  at  all — but  frae  as  the 
biped  of  a  chap  ye  calls  a  toad,  that  St. 
Path  rick  (Missings  on  his  name  !)  kicked 
out  o'  ould  Ireland,  for  a  baastly  sarpent, 
an*  it  was." 

"Did  St.  Patrick  wear  brogans  when 
he  kicked  the  toad  so  far  ?  "  asked  Huntly, 
gravely. 

"  Brogans  !  "  cried  Teddy,  with  a  comi 
cal  look  of  surprise,  that  any  one  should 
be  so  ignorant:  "  Brogans,  ye  spalpeen.! — 
beg  pardon  !  your  honor  I  mane — why  he 
was  a  saint,  a  howly  saint,  ye  divil — beg 
oardon  !  your  honor — and  didn't  naad  the 
ailp  of  kivering  to  kaap  the  crathurs  from 
biting  him." 

"  0,  yes,"  said  Huntly,  feigning  to  re 
collect  ;  "  I  remember  now,  he  was  a  saint ; 
and  of  course  he  could  kick  anybody,  or 
anything,  whether  bare-footed  or  shod." 

"  He  could  do  that  same — could  St. 
Pathrick,"  replied  the  Irishman  ;  "  and  as 
asy  too,  as  your  honor  could  be  afther 
?wollering  a  paaled  praty,  barring  the 
shokirig  if  yees  didn't  chaw,  it  hand 
somely." 

"  A  fellow  if  infinite  jest ;  I  like  him 
much,"  said  Huntly  to  me,  aside,  with  a 
smile.  "  I  must  secure  him — eh,  Frank  ?  " 

"Certainly,  by  all  means,"  I  replied,  in 
the  same  manner;  "for  his  like  we  ne'er 
may  see  again." 

"  But  if  you  are  not  bound,  Teddy," 
continued  Huntly,  addressing  the  Irish 
man,  "  pray  tell  me  whither  you  are 
going?" 

"  Faith,  now,  ye've  jist  axed  a  question 
which  meself  has  put  to  Teddy  O'Lagherty 
more'n  fifty  times,  without  gitting  a  single 
straight  answer." 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  are,  like  us,  on  a 
journey  of  adventure." 

"  It's  like  I  may  be,  for  a  divil  of  a  thing 
else  me  knows  about  it." 

"  Would  you  like  to  get  employment  ?  " 

"  Would  a  pig  like  to  ate  his  supplier, 
or  a  nager  like  to  stael  ?  "  answered  Teddy, 
promptly. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  engage  with 
us  now  ?  " 

"  Troth,  I've  done  many  a  worse  thing, 
I'm  thinking,  your  honor." 


"No  doubt  of  it,  Teddy." 

"  But  what  d'ye  want  of  me,  your  hon 
or  ? — and  where  to  go  ?- — for  I'm  liking 
travel,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  yees." 

"  So  much  the  better,  for  we  are  bound 
on  a  long  journey ; "  and  Charles  pro 
ceeded  to  explain  our  intentions,  and  in 
what  capacity  the  other  would  be  wanted. 

"  Och  !  "  cried  Teddy,  jumping  up  and 
cracking  his  heels  with  delight,  to  our  great 
amusement ;  "  it's  that  same  I'd  be  afther 
saaking,  if  ye'd  a  axed  me  what  I  wanted." 

"  Think  you  can  shoot  Indians,  eh  J 
Teddy  ?  " 

"  Shoot,  is  it?  Faith,  I  can  shoot  any 
thing  that  flies  on  two  legs.  Although  I 
sez  it  myself,  what  shouldn't,  but  let  me 
mother  for  me,  I'm  the  greatest  shooter  ye 
iver  knew,  I  is." 

"  Indeed  !  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Teddy , 
for  I  presume  we  shall  have  plenty  of  shoot 
ing  to  do.  But  what  did  you  ever  kill, 
Teddy?  " 

"  Kill,  is  it  ?  Troth,  now,  ye're  afthei 
heading  me  wid  your  cunning." 

"  Well,  then,  what  did  you  shoot  ?  " 

"  A  two-legged  bir-r-d,  your  honor." 

"  Well,  you  killed  it,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Killed  it !  Agh  !  now  ye're  talking. 
Faith,  it  wouldn't  die.  I  shot  it  as  pLus 
as  daylight,  right  fornenst  the  back- bone 
of  its  spine  ;  and  would  ye  belave  it,  divi) 
of  a  shot  touched  it  at  all,  at  all — the  ujjly 
baast  that  it  was." 

"Well,  well,  Teddy,  I  think  you  will 
do,"  said  Huntly,  laughing;  and  forthwith 
he  proceeded  to  close  the  bargain  with  the 
Irishman. 

Our  trip  proved  very  delightful,  and  in 
due  time  we  arrived  at  Cincinnati,  where 
it  was  our  design  to  spend  at  least  a  day.  Il 
was  a  beautiful  morning,  when  we  rounded 
the  first  bend  above  the  city,  and  beheld 
the  spires  of  this  great  western  mart  glit 
tering  in  the  sunbeams.  The  levee  w* 
found  lined  with  boats,  and  crowded  witfa 
drays,  hacks,  and  merchandise  ;  and  every 
thing  bespoke  the  life  and  briskness  of  im 
mense  trade.  Taking  rooms  at  the  Broad 
way  Hotel,  we  sauntered  forth  to  view  the 
city,  and  evening  found  us  well  pleased  witK 
our  day's  ramble. 

It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  on  the  nighl 
succeeding  our  arrival,  that,  having  re 
turned  from  a  concert,  we  were  preparing 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST. 


21 


to  retire  to  rest,  when 'the  alarm  of  fire, 
accompanied  by  a  bright  light;  which  shone 
in  at  our  windows,  attracted 'our  attention. 
"Ha!  here  is  another  adventure,  Char 
ley,"  I  exclaimed,  replacing  my  coat,  which 
I  was  in  the  act  of  taking  from  my  shoul 
ders.  "  Come,  once  more  forth,  and  let  us 
see  what  we  can  discover  that  is  new  and 
startling — for  to-morrow,  you  knosv,  we 

O  * 

leave." 

"  Not  to-night,  Frank,"  answered  Hunt- 
ly,  yawning  and  rubbing  his  eyes.  "  !'- 
faith,  man,  I've  seen  enough  of  fire  to  last 
me  for  a  long  time ;  and  O,  (yawning 
again)  I  am  so  sleepy." 

"  Then  I  will  go  alone." 

"  Well,  go ;  for  myself,  I'll  to  bed  and 
dream  about  it.  But  I  say,  Frank,"  pur 
sued  Huntly,  as  I  was  on  the  point  of  quit 
ting  the  room,  "  have  you  secured  your 
pistols  about  you  ?  " 

"Xo" 

"You  had  better." 

"  Pshaw  !  I  do  not  want  them  :  I  am 
not  going  to  fight." 

"  Nevertheless  you  had  better  go  armed, 
in  a  strange  place  like  this." 

"  Nonsense,"  I  replied,  closing  the  door, 
Rnd  hurrying  down  a  flight  of  stairs,  and 
into  the  street. 

A  thought  struck  me,  that  I  would  take 
'Teddy  along  ;  but  upon  second  considera 
tion  I  resolved  to  go  alone. 

There  was  but  little  difficulty  in  finding 
the  fire,  for  a  bright  flame,  shooting  up 
ward  on  the  dark  canopy  above,  guided 
me  to  it.  Passing  up  Broadway  to  Sixth 
street,  I  turned  down  some 'four  or  five 
squares,  and  discovered  the  fire  to  proceed 
from  an  old,,  two-story  wooden  building. 
which  had  been  tenanted  by  two  or  three 
families  of  the  poorer  class.  At  the  mo 
ment  when  I  arrived,  four  engines  were  in 
active  play,  and  some  two  or  three  others 
preparing  to  join  them.  The  water  was 
not  thrown  upon  the  burning  building — for 
that  was  already  too  far  gone — but  upon 
one  or  two  others  that  nearly  joined,  which 
wvre  smoking  from  the  heat.  Many  house 
hold  articles  had  been  thrown  into  the 
street,  and  these  were  surrounded  by  the 
tire-watch  ;  while  an  Irishman  and  his 
wife,  with  a  daughter  of  sixteen,  were  run 
ning  to  and  fro,  and  lamenting  in  piteous 
tones  the  loss  of  their  home  and  property. 


"  Och  !  howly  mither  of  Mary  !  was  the 
like  on't  iver  saan  ?  "  cried  the  matron, 
some  forty-five  years  of  age,  whose  tidy 
dress  bespoke  her  a  rather  thrifty  house 
wife. 

"  Niver,  since  the  flood,"  blubbered  her 
husband,  dolefully. 

"What  an  invintion  is  fire!"  again 
cried  the  mother. 

"  Tirrible  crathur  it  is,"  rejoined  the 
daughter. 

"  Och,  honey,  don't  be  despairing  now  !" 
said  a  voice,  which  I  fancied  I  recognized  ; 
and  turning  toward  the  speaker,  to  my  as 
tonishment  I  beheld  Teddy,  in  the  laudable 
act  of  consoling  the  afflicted  damsel. 

"  Teddy  !  "  I  shouted. 

"  Here,  your  honor,"  returned  the  Hi 
bernian,  looking  around  in  surprise,  and 
advancing  to  me  with  an  abashed  air. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Teddy?" 
I  continued.  "  I  thought  you  were  at  the 
hotel,  and  asleep." 

"  Faith  !  and  it's  like  I  thought  the  same 
of  your  honor,  barring  the  slaap,"  rejoined 
the  Irishman,  scratching  his  head.  "  I 
seed  the  tire,  your  honor,  and  I  thought 
as  maybe  there'd  be  some  females  that'd 
naad  consoling  ;  and  so,  >ye  see,  I  gathered 
meself  hitherward,  as  fast  as  me  trotters 
would  let  me." 

"  And  so  you  make  it  your  business  to 
console  females,  eh  ?  "  I  asked,  with  a  smile 
which  I  could  not  repress. 

"  Faith,  now,"  answered  Teddy,  "  if  it's 
all  the  same  to  yourself,  your  honor,  I'm  a 
female  man,  barring  the  dress  they  wears." 

"Well,  well,"  said  I,  laughing  outright 
in  spite  of  myself,  "go  on  in  your  good 
work — but  mind  you  are  at  your  post  be 
times  in  the  morning,,  or  you  will  be  left 
behind." 

"  It's  meself  that'll  not  forgit  that  same," 
answered  the  other,  as  he  turned  away  to 
rejoin  the  party  in  distress,  and  add  his 
consolation. 

At  this  moment  I  felt  myself  rudely 
jostled  from  behind,  and,  turning  quickly 
round,  found  myself  hemmed  in  by  a 
crowd,  in  which  two  men  were  fighting, 
I  endeavored  to  escape,  and,  in  doing  so, 
accidentally  trod  on  the  foot  of  a  stranger, 
who  turned  furiously  upon  me,  with  : 

"What  in (uttering  an  oath)  du 

you  mean  ?  " 


23 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


"An   accident,"  said  I,  apologetically. 

"You're  a  liar!"  he  rejoined;  "you 
did  it  a  purpose." 

I  never  was  remarkable  for  prudence  at 
any  time,  or  I  should  have  been  more 
cautious  on  the  present  occasion.  But  the 
insulting  words  of  the  stranger  made  my 
young  blood  boil,  until  I  felt  its  heat  in 
my  face.  Without  regard  to  consequences, 
and  ere  the  words  had  fairly  escaped  his 
lips,  I  struck  him  a  blow  in  the  face,  so 
violent  that  he  fell  back  upon  the  ground. 

"  Another  fight !  "  cried  a  dozen  voices 
at  once  :  "  Another  fight !  hurrah  !  " 

In  a  moment  I  regretted  what  I  had 
done,  but  it  was  too  late.  I  would  have 
escaped,  but  the  crowd  had  now  formed 
around  me  so  dense,  that  escape  was  im 
possible.  Besides,  my  antagonist,  regain 
ing  his  feet,  his  face  covered  with  blood, 
was  now  advancing  upon  me  furiously. 
There  was  no  alternative  ;  and  watching 
my  opportunity  as  he  came  up,  I  dexter 
ously  planted  the  second  blow  exactly 
where  I  had  the  first,  and  down  he  went 


again. 

"A  trump,  by 


! "     "  Give  it  to 


him,  stranger  ! "  "  He's  a  few  !  "  were 
some  of  the  expressions  which  greeted 
me  from  the  delighted  bystanders. 

But  I  had  a  short  time  to  enjoy  my  tri 
umph — if  such  a  display  of  animal  powers 
may  be  termed  a  triumph — for  the  next 
moment  I  beheld  my  adversary  again  ap 
proaching,  but  more  warily  than  before, 
and  evidently  better  prepared  for  the  com 
bat.  I  was  not  considered  a  bad  pugilist 
for  one  of  my  age,  nor  did  I  in  general  fear 
one  of  my  race  ;  but  as  I  gazed  upon  my 
advancing  foe,  I  will  be  frank  to  own  that 
I  trembled  for  the  result.  He  was  a  pow 
erfully  built  man,  six  feet  in  stature,  had  a 
tremendous  arm,  and  an  eye  that  would 
quail  lefore  nothing  mortal. 

"  By !  young  chap,"  he  exclaimed, 

as  he  came  up,  "  you've  done  what  nobody 
else  has  of  latter  years.  Take  that,  and 
see  how  you'll  like  it ;  "  and  with  the  word 
be  threw  all  his  strength  into  a  blow,  that 
fell  like  a  sledge  hammer. 

I  saw  it,  and  prepared  to  ward  it.  I  did 
so,  partially,  but  its  force  broke  my  guard, 
and  his  double-jointed  fist  alighting  upon 
my  head,  staggered  me  back  and  brought 
me  to  my  knees.  With  all  the  suppleness 


I  was  master  of,  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  only 
to  receive  another  blow,  which  laid  me  out 
upon  the  flinty  pavement.  For  a  moment 
I  was  stunned  and  confused  ;  bul  regain 
ing  my  senses  and  feet,  I  prepared  to  renew 
the  contest. 

"I  say,  stranger,"  said  ray  antagonist, 
motioning  his  hand  for  a  parley,  "  you're 
good  blood,  but  you  haint  got  quite  enough 
of  the  metal  to  cope  with  me.  You're 
only  a  boy  yit,  and  so  just  consider  your 
self  licked,  and  go  home,  afore  I  git  can 
tankerous  and  hurt  you  a  few." 

But  I  was  not  in  a  condition  to  take  his 
advice.  True,  I  was  bruised  and  fatigued, 
and  should  have  rested  satisfied  to  let  the 
affair  end  thus.  But  my  worst  passions 
had  now  got  the  better  of  my  reasoning 
powers.  I  fancied  I  had  been  insulted, 
disgraced,  and  that  nothing  but  victory  or 
death  could  remove  the  stigma.  I  saw 
some  of  the  spectators  smile,  and  some 
look  pityingly  upon  me,  and  this  decidee 
my  course  of  action.  My  temper  rose,  my 
eyes  flashed,  and  my  cheeks  burned,  as 
I  thought  of  the  insulting  words  of  the 
other. 

"  Some  men  live  by  bullying,"  I  replied, 
pointedly  ;  "  and  I  suppose  you  are  one  of 
them  ;  if  not,  you  will  keep  your  advice 
till  one  of  us  is  the  victor." 

My  opponent  looked  upon  me  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  surprise  and  rage- 

"  Fool ! "  he  cried,  "do  you  dare  mo 

again  to  the  fight  ?  By !  I'll  whip 

you  this  time  or  die  ! " 

"  Make  your  words  good,"  I  retorted, 
springing  forward,  and  pretending  to  aim 
a  blow  at  his  head. 

He  prepared  to  ward  it,  and,  in  doing  so, 
left  his  abdomen  unguarded.  He  saw  his 
mistake,  but  too  late  to  retrieve  it ;  for 
instead  of  striking  with  my  fist,  I  only 
made  a  feint,  and  doubling  with  great  dex 
terity,  took  him  with  my  nead  just  below 
the  pit  of  the  stomach,  and  hurled  him 
over  backward  upon  the  ground.  He 
threw  out  his  hand,  caught  me  as  he  fell,, 
and  drew  me  upon  him. 

Now  came  the  contest  in  earnest.  I  had 
a  slight  advantage  in  being  uppermost , 
but  how  long  it  would  last  was  doubtful , 
for  throwing  his  arms  around,  he  strove 
to  turn  me.  I  seized  him  by  the  throat, 
and  clung  there  with  the  tenacity  of  a 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


23 


drowning  man  to  a  rope.  He  made  a  des 
perate  effort  to  bring  me  under,  but  still  I 
maintained  my  position.  The  force  of  my 
grasp  now  began  to  tell  upon  him.  He 
strangled,  and  I  could  sensibly  perceive  he 
«ras  growing  weaker.  At  length,  just  as 
I  was  about  to  relax  my  hold,  for  fear  of 
choking  him  to  death,  he  suddenly  threw 
up  one  hand,  buried  it  in  my  hair,  twined 
a  long  lock  around  his  finger,  and  the  next 
moment  placed  his  thumb  to  my  eye,  with 
a  force  that  seemed  to  start  the  ball  from 
its  socket. 

Great  Heaven  !  what  a  feeling  of  horror 
came  over  me  !  I  was  about  to  lose  an 
eye — be  disfigured  for  life.  Death,  I  fan 
cied,  was  preferable  to  this  ;  and  instantly 
releasing  his  throat,  I  seized  his  hand  with 
both  of  mine.  This  was  exactly  what  he 
desired ;  and  the  next  moment  I  found 
myself  whirled  violently  upon  my  back  on 
the  rough  pavement,  and  my  antagonist 
uppermost.  I  attempted  to  recover  my 
former  advantage,  but  in  vain.  My  ad 
versary  was  by  far  too  powerful  a  man. 
Grasping  my  throat  with  one  hand,  with 
Bnch  a  pressure  that  everything  began  to 
grow  dark,  he  partly  raised  himself,  plant 
ed,  a  knee  upon  my  breast,  and  with  the 
other  hand  drew  a  long  knife.  I  just 
caught  a  glimmer  of  the  blade,  as  he 

... 

raised  it  to  give  me  a  fatal  stab  ;  but  I 
was  too  exhausted  and  overmastered  to 
make  any  resistance  ;  and  I  closed  my 
eyes  in  despair,  and  felt  that  all  was  over. 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  voice  of  Teddy, 
shouting : 

"  To  the  divil  wid  ye,  now,  for  a  blath- 
ing  spalpeen,  that  ye  is  !  "  and  at  the  same 
moment  I  felt  the  grasp  of  my  opponent 
leave  my  throat,  and  his  weight  my  body. 

With  my  remaining  strength  I  rose  to  a 
sitting  posture,  and  saw  Teddy  dancing 
around  me,  flourishing  a  hickory  shelaleh 
over  his  head  in  the  scientific  manner 
of  his  countrymen,  and  whooping,  shout 
ing,  and  cursing,  in  a  way  peculiar  to 
himself. 

By  some  means  he  had  been  made  aware 
of  my  danger,  and,  like  a  noble  fellow, 
had  rushed  into  the  crowd  and  felled  my 
adversary,  with  a  blow  so  powerful  that  he 
still  lay  senseless  upon  the  ground. 

"  And  who  are  you,  that  dares  thus  to 
Interfere?"  cried  a  voice  in  the  crowd, 


which  found  immediate  echo  with  a  dozen 
others. 

"  Who  am  I,  ye  blaggards  ?  "  roared 
Teddy  :  "  Who  should  I  be  but  a  watch 
man,  ye  dirthy  scull-mullions,  yees  ! — 
Come,"  he  cried,  seizing  me  by  the  col 
lar,  "  ye'Il  gif  a  lock-up  the  night  for  this 
blaggard  business  of  disturbing  the  slum 
bers  of  honest  paaple  afore  they've  gone 
to  bid,  jist." 

I  saw  his  ruse  at  once,  and  determined 
to  profit  by  it,  and  make  my  escape.  To 
do  this,  I  pretended,  of  course,  that  I  was 
not  the  aggressor,  and  that  it  was  very 
hard  to  be  brought  up  before  the  Mayor 
for  a  little  harmless  fun. 

"  Harmless  fun  ! "  roared  the  cunning 
Irishman.  "  D'ye  call  it  harmless  fun, 
now,  to  have  your  throat  cut,  ye  scoundrel  ? 
Come  along  wid  ye  ! "  and  he  pretended 
to  jerk  me  through  the  crowd,  which  gave 
way  before  him. 

We  had  just  got  fairly  clear  of  the  mass, 
when  we  heard  voices  behind  us  shouting  : 

"  Stop  'em  !  stop  'em  ! — he's  no  watch." 

"  Faith,  they're  afther  smelling  the  joke 
whin  it's  too  late,"  said  Teddy.  "  But 
run,  your  honor,  or  the  divils  will  be  howld 
of  us." 

I  needed  no  second  prompting  ;  and  with 
the  aid  of  the  Irishman,  who  partially  sup 
ported  me — for  I  was  still  weak — I  darted 
down  a  dark  and  narrow  street.  For  a 
short  distance  we  heard  the  steps  of  pur 
suers  behind  us,  but  gradually  one  after 
another  gave  up  the  chase,  until  at  last 
we  found  our  course  left  free. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  picture 
the  joy  1  felt  at  my  escape,  or  my  grati 
tude  toward  my  deliverer.  Turning  to  the 
Irishman,  I  seized  his  hand,  while  my  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Teddy,"  I  said,  "  you  have  saved  my 
life,  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  it." 

"  Troth,  your  honor,"  replied  Teddy, 
with  a  comical  look,  "  it  was  wor-r-th  pre 
serving — for  it's  the  best  and  ounly  one 
yees  got." 

I  said  no  more,  but  silently  slipped  a 
gold  coin  into  his  hand. 

"  Howly  mother  !  how  smooth  it  makes 
a  body's  hands  to  be  butthered,"  observed 
the  Irishman,  as  he  carefully  hid  the  coin 
in  his  pocket. 

Deep  was  the  sympathy  of  Huntly  for 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


me,  when,  arrived  at  the  hotel,  I  detailed 
what  had  occurred  in  my  absence  ;  and  as 
deep  his  gratitude  to  the  preserver  of  my 
life. 

"  Frank,"  he  exclaimed,  grasping  my 
hand,  "henceforth  you  go  not  alone,  in 
the  night,  in  a  strange  city." 

The  next  day,  though  stiff  and  sore  from 
my  bruises,  I  found  myself  gliding  down 
the  Ohio  on  a  splendid  steamer,  bound  for 
St.  Louis,  where,  in  due  time,  we  all  ar 
rived  without  accident  or  event  worthy  of 
note. 


CHAPTER   Y. 


\ 


THE     PRAIRIE SUNSET      SCENE REFLEC 
TIONS  OUtt   FIRST    CAMP COSTUME 

EQUIPMENTS  THE    TRAPPERS,    ETC. 

THE  prairie  !  the  mighty,  rolling,  and 
seemingly  boundless  prairie  !  With  what 
singular  emotions  I  beheld  it  for  the  first 
time  !  I  could  compare  it  to  nothing  but  a 
vast  sea,  changed  suddenly  to  earth,  with 
all  its  heaving,  rolling  billows.  Thousands 
upon  thousands  of  acres  lay  spread  before 
me  like  a  map,  bounded  by  nothing  but 
the  deep  blue  sky.  What  a  magnificent .  j 
sight !  A  sight  that  made  my  soul  expand 
with  lofty  thought,  and  its  frail  tern -ir^ni 
sink  into  utter  nothingness  before  it.  Talk 
of  man — his  power,  his  knowledge,  his' 
greatness — what  is  he  ?  A  mere  worm,  an 
insect,  a  mote,  a  nothing,  \vhcn  brought,  in 
compare  with  the  grand,  the  sublime  in  na 
ture.  Go,  take  the  mighty  one  of  cart;;— 
the  crimson-robed,  diamond-decked  mon 
arch,  whose  nod  is  law,  and  whose  arro 
gant  pride  tells  him  he  rules  the  land  and 
sea — take  him,  bring  him  hither,  and  place 
him  in  the  center  of  this  ocean  of  land — 
far,  far  beyond  the  sounds  of  civilization — 
and  what  does  he  become  ?  Talk  to  him 
then  of  his  power,  his  greatness,  his  glory; 
tell  him  his  word  is  law — tc  ecmmimd.  and 
he  shall  be  obeyed  ;  remind  him  of  his 
treasures,  and  ten  him  now  to  try  the 
power  of  gold  !  What  Av.vi;jd  be  the  re 
sult  ?  He  would  deep'ij  f>'--!  the.  mo'-kei-y 
of  your  words,  and  the  nothingness  of  all 
he  oti  ce  valued  ;  for,  alas  !  they  would  ,'uck 
the  power  to  guide,  to  feed,  or  save  him 


from  the  thousand  dangers  of  the  wilder 
ness. 

Similar  ce  iluiPe  were  my  thoughts,  as  1 
stood  alone,  upon  a  slight  rise  of  ground, 
and  overlooked  ;r.i!-.'«  upon  miles  of  the 
most  lovely,  the  most  sublime  scene  I  had 
ever  beheld.  Wave  upon  wave  of  land,  if 
I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  stretched 
away  on  every  hand,  covered  with  beauti 
ful,  green  prairie-grass,  and  the  blooming 
wild  flowers  of  the  wilderness.  Afar  in 
the  distance  I  beheld  a  drove  of  buffalo 
quietly  grazing ;  and  in  another  direction 
a  stampede  of  wild  horses,  rushing  onward 
with  the  velocity  of  the  whirling  car  of 
modern  days.  Nearer  me  I  occasionally 
caught  glimpses  of  various  other  animals; 
while  iiocks  of  birds,  of  beautiful  plumage, 
skimming  over  the  surface,  here  and  there 
alighting,  or  starting  up  from  the  earth, 
gave  the  enchantment  of  hfe  and  variety 
to  the  picture. 

It  had  been  a  beautiful  day,  and  the  su;a 
was  now  just  burying  himself  in  the  far 
off  ocean  of  blue,  and  his  golden  rays  were 
streaming  along  the  surface  of  the  waving 
grass,  and  tinging  it  with  a  delightful  hue. 
Occasionally  some  elevated  point  like  the 
one  on  which  I  stood,  caught  for  a  moment 
his  fading  rays,  and  shone  like  a  ball  of 
golden  tire.  Slowly  lie  took  his  diurnal 
farewell — as-  if  loth  to  quit  a  scene  so 
lovely — and  at  la:;.t  hid  himself  fiom  my 
view  beyond  she  western. horizon.  Then 
a  bright,  golden  streak  shot  up  toward  the 
darkenirg  dome  of  heaven,  and,  wideiiir.t' 
on  cither  hand,  gradually  became  sweetly 
blended  whh  the  cerulean  blue.  Then 
this  slowly  faded,  and  took  a  more  crim 
son  color  ;  then  more  purple  ;  until,  at 
last,  a  faint  tinge  showed  the  point  where 
the  sun  had  disappeared,  while  the  stars 
began  to  appear  in  the  gray  vault  above. 

1  had  stood  and  marked  the  whole 
change  with  that  poetical  feeling  of  plea 
sant  sadness  which  a  beautiful  sunset 
rarely  fails  to  awaken  in  the  breast  of  the 
lover  of  nature.  I  noted  every  change  thai 
was  going  on,  and  yet  my  thoughts  were 
for,  far  away,  in  my  native  land.  [  was 
thinking  of  the  hundreds  of  miles  that  sep 
arated  me  from  il  e  friends  that, I  loved.  I 
was  recalling  the  delight  with  which.  I  had, 
when  a  boy,  viewed  the  farewell  screes 
of  day  from  some  of  the  many  romautie 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE     FAR    \V  EST. 


hills  of  old  Now  England.  I  pictured  the 
once  cheerful  home  of  my  parents,  which 
1  had  forsaken,  and  which  now  peradven- 
ture  was  cheerful  no  longer,  in  consequence 
of  my  absence.  I  fancied  I  could  see  my 
mother  move  to  the  door  with  a  slow  step 
and  heavy  heart,  and  gaze  with  maternal 
affection  toward  the  broad  the  mighty  west, 
and  sigh,  and  wonder  what  had  become  of 
him  who  should  have  been  the  stay  and 
support  of  her  declining  years.  I  thought, 
and  I  grew  more  sad  as  I  thought,  until 
tears  filled  my  eyes. 

Mother  !  what  a  world  of  affection  is 
compressed  in  that  single  word  !  How  lit 
tle  do  we,  in  the  giddy  round  of  youthful 
pleasures  and  folly,  heed  her  wise  coun 
sels  !  How  lightly  do  we  look  upon  that 
jealous  care  with  which  she  guides  our 
Otherwise  erring  feet,  and  vratches  with 
feelings  which  none  but  a  mother  can 
know,  the  gradual  expansion  of  our  youth 
to  the  riper  years  of  discretion  !  We  may 
not  think  of  it  then,  but  it  will  be  recalled 
to  us  in  after  years,  when  the  gloomy 
grave,  or  a  fearful  living  separation,  has 
placed  her  far  beyond  our  reach,  and  her 
sweet  voice  of  sympathy  and  consolation, 
for  the  various  ill's  attendant  upon  us, 
Bounds  in  our  ear  no  more.  How  deeply 
then  we  regret  a  thousand  deeds  that  we 
have  done  contrary  to  her  gentle  admoni 
tions  !  How  we  sigh  for  those  days  once 
ON.ii'e,  that  we  may  retrieve  what  we  have 
done  amiss,  and  make  her  sweet  heart 
glad  with  happiness.  Alas  !  once  gone, 
they  can  rarely  be  renewed — and  we  grow 
mournfully  sad  with  the  bitter  reflection. 

My  mother — my  dearlj  beloved  mo 
ther—would  I  ever  behold  her  again  ! 
Shou]d  1  ever  return  to  my  native  land, 
would  I  find  her  among  the  living !  If 
net-  -if 'i,','.!  Heavens!  what  a  sad,  what 
a  p'xurfu!  thought !  and  instantly  1  found 
my  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  and  my  frame 
trembling  with  nervous  agitation.  But  I 
would  hope  for  the  best ,  I  wDuld  not  "bor 
row  trouble  ;  and  gradually  I  became  calm.- 
Then  1  thought  of  my  father — of  many 
other  dear  friends — and,  lastly,  though  I 
strove  to  avoid  it,  I  thought  of  Lilian — 
sweet,  lost,  but  ah  !  dearly  loved  Lilian. 
I  could  see  her  gentle  features,  I  could 
hear  her  plaintive  voice — soft  and  silvery 
*s  running  waters — and  I  sighed,  a  long, 


deep  sigh  as  I  thought.  Would  I  evor 
behold  her  again?  I  might,  but — (my 
blood  ran  cold)  but — wedded  to  another. 
"Ay!  wedded  to  another  !"  I  fairly  groaueci 
aloud,  with  a  start  that  sent  the  red  cur 
rent  of  life  swiftly  through  7ny  veins. 

1  looked  around  ioe,  and  iband  it  already 
growing  dark.  The  beautiful  scene  1  had 
so  lately  witnessed,  was  now  faded  from 
my  sight ;  and  the  gloomy  howl  of  a  dis 
tant  pack  of  wolves,  reminded  me  that  I 
was  now  beyond  civilization,  in  the  wilder 
ness  of  an  extensive  prairie.  I  looked 
downward,  and  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
me  beheld  the  fire  of  our  first  camp  on 
the  prairie  ;  and  with  a  hasty  step  I  de 
scended  the  eminence  and  joined  my  com 
panions. 

"Ah  !  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  as  I  came 
up,  "  I  war,  beginning  to  fear  something 
had  happened  you,  and  you  can  easily 
imagine  my  feelings.  Why  did  you  absent 
yourself  so  long  ?  " 

"  I  was  on  yonder  eminence,  enraptured 
with  the  glories  of  the  sunset  scene,"  I 
replied,  somewhat  evasively. 

"  Ah  !  was  it  not  a  splendid  sight  ?  "  he 
rejoined,  enthusiastically,  with  sparkling 
eyes.  "  I  too  beheld  it  with  rapture,  and 
regretted  that  you  were  not  by  to  sympa 
thise  with  me  in  my  poetical  feelings. 
But  come,  supper  is  preparing,  and  so  let 
us  regale  ourselves  at  once,  and  afterward 
take  our  fust  sl**ep  in  this  magnificent 
wild."  '  '\/ 

As  I  said  before,  this  was  our  first  camp 
on  the  prairie.  On  our  way  hither  we  had 
joined  a  party  of  four  hunters  or  trappers, 
and  in  consequence  our  number  was  now 
augmented  to  seven.  We  had  thrown  off  . 
the  lighter  and  more  costly  apparel  of  the 
settlements,  and  were  now  costumed  in  the 
rougher  garments  worn  by  the  hunters  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  This  consisted  of 
a  frock  or  hunting-shirt,  made  of  dressed 
buckskin,  and  ornamented  with  long  and 
parti-colored  fringes.  Our  nether  garments 
were  of  the  same  material,  ornamented  in 
the  same  manner,  and  on  our  feet  were 
moccasins.  Round  the  waist  of  each  was 
a  belt,  supporting  a  brace  of  pistols  and  a 
long  knife,  the  latter  in  a  sheath  made  of 
buffalo  hide.  A  strip  of  leather  passing 
over  our  right  shoulders,  suspended  our 
powder  horns1  and  bullet  pouches  under 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


our  left  arms.  In  the  latter  we  can-led 
flint  and  stee  ,  and  small  etceteras  of  va 
rious  kinds,  that  had  been  mentioned  as 
being  useful  where  we  procured  our  tit-out. 
Among  other  things,  we  had  taken  care  to 
secure  plenty  of  ammunition,  tobacco  and 

Sipes,  together  with  an  extra  supply  of  ap- 
urel  for  the  cold  regions  toward  which 
we  were  journeying,  all  of  which  were 
£  ••.igly  stowed  away  in  our.  large  buffalo 
skin  wallets — called  by  the  trappers  "  pos 
sibles,"  or  "  possible  sacks  " — which  were 
either  attached  to  or  thrown  across  our 
saddles. 

In  the  description  just  given,  I  have 
been  speaking  of  our  party  alone — namely, 
Huntly,  Teddy  and  myself — without  re 
gard  to  the  trappers,  who  were  costumed 
and  equipped  much  like  ourselves,  with  the 
exception  that  instead  of  horses  their  ani 
mals  were  mules ;  and  in  place  of  one 
apiece,  they  had  three.  They,  however, 
were  bound  on  a  regular  trapping  expedi 
tion,  and  carried  their  traps  with  them, 
and  took  along  their  mules  for  furs  ;  while 
we,  going  merely  on  adventure  and  not 
speculation,  had  only  taken  the  animals 
upon  which  we  rode.  Our  horses  and  ap 
pendages,  what  we  had,  were  ail  of  the 
finest  description  ;  and  our  long,  silver- 
mounted  rifles  drew  many  a  wistful  look 
from  our  newly  made  companions.  In 
joining  them,  our  chief  object  was  to  learn 
their  habits  and  customs  in  the  wilderness, 
before  we  ventured  forth  upon  our  own 
resources  ;  and  by  being  somewhat  liberal 
in  supplying  them  with  tobacco  and  many 
small  things  of  great  value  to  the  trapper, 
we  secured  their  friendship  and  favor  at 
once. 

The  trapper  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is 
a  singular  being.  Like  the  boatman  of  the 
river,  the  sailor  of  the  ocean,  or  the  scout 
of  the  forest,  he  has  peculiar  characteris 
tics,  both  as  regards  manners  and  d'alect. 
Constantly  exposed  to  danger  and  hardship, 
he  becomes  reckless  of  the  one  and  indiffer 
ent  to  the  other.  His  whole  life,  from  be 
ginning  to  end.  is  a  constaat  succession  of 
perilous  adventures  ;  *^.fl  sc.  infatuated  does 
lie  become  with  the  exciU*nent  attendant 
upon  these,  that,  confine  {-..-:::  in  a  settle 
ment,  and  he  would  literd-j'  pine  to  death 
for  his  free  mountain  air  md  liberty  to 
roam  as  he  lists. 


There  is  no  polish,  no  sickly,  sentimen 
tal  refinement  in  his  manners  and  conver 
sation — but,  on  the  contrary,  all  is  rude, 
rough,  blunt,  and  to  the  point.  When  he 
says  a  thing,  he  means  it ;  and,  in  general, 
has  but  little  deceit.  With  death  he  be 
comes  so  familiar,  that  all  fear  of  the  dread 
king  of  mortality  is  lost.  True,  he  oling» 
to  life  with  great  tenacity — but  then  there 
is  no  whimpering  and  whining  at  his  fate. 
When  he  finds  his  time  has  come  to  go,  he 
stands  up  like  a  man,  and  takes  the  result 
with  the  stoicism  of  a  martyr.  He  is  fre 
quently  a  great  boaster,  and,  like  the  sail 
or,  delights  in  narrating  strange  tales  of 
his  wonderful  advenUires  and  hairbreadth 
escapes.  In  his  outward  behavior,  he  is 
often  sullen  and  morose  ;  but,  as  a  general 
thing,  his  heart  is  in  the  right  place.  He 
will  kill  and  scalp  an  Indian  foe,  with  the 
same  indifference  and  delight  that  he  would 
shoot  a  bear  or  deer — and  yet  you  may 
trust  your  life  and  money  in  his  hands  with 
perfect  safety.  In  fact,  I  may  say,  that  his 
whole  composition  is  a  strange  compound 
of  odds  and  ends — of  inexplicable  incon. 
gruities— of  good  and  evil. 

Until  within  the  last  few  days,  I  had 
never  seen  a  trapper ;  and  of  course  he 
was  to  me  and  my  companions  as  great 
an  object  of  curiosity,  as  would  have  been 
the  aborigine  himself.  The  four  which  we 
had  joined,  were  genuine,  bona  fide  speci 
mens  of  the  mountaineers.  Each  had  seen 
much  service,  had  been  more  or  less  upon 
trapping  expeditions,  and  one  had  actually 
grown  gray  in  the  hardy  life  of  the  wilder 
ness.  Each  had  trapped  on  his  own  account 
and  for  others,  and  had  scoured  the  coun 
try  from  the  upper  regions  of  Oregon  to 
the  Mexican  latitude — from  the  States  to 
the  Pacific  ocean.  They  were  acquainted 
with  the  land  in  every  direction — knew  all 
the  regularly  organized  fur  companies — all 
the  trading  forts  and  stations — and  conse 
quently  wore  just  the  men  to  initiate  us 
into  ali  the  peculiarities  of  the  wilderness, 
all  the  mysteries  of  the  trapper's  life,  and 
excite  our  marvellous  propensities  by  their 
startling  and  wonderful  tales.  They  glo 
ried  in  the  soubriquets  of  Black  George, 
Rash  Will,  Fiery  Ned,  and  Daring  Tom — 
appellations  which  had  been  bestowed  on 
them  for  some  peculiar  look  in  their  pri 
sons,  or  trait  in  their  characters. 


ADVENTURES     IT4     TH3     FAR    WEST. 


37 


The  firat  mentioned,  Black  George,  was 
the  eldest  of  the  party,  and  had  doubtles; 
received  his  cognomen  from  his  dingy  com 
plexion,  which  was  but  little  removed  from 
the  sable  son  of  Africa.  Naturally  dark, 
his  skin  had  become  almost  black  froip 
long  exposure  to  the  weather.  In  hight 
he  was  fully  six  feet,  gaunt  and  raw-boned, 
with  great  breadth  of  shoulders,  ponder 
ous  limbs  and  powerful  muscles,  which 
gave  him  a  very  formidable  appearance. 
Although  approaching  sixty,  his  vigor 
seemed  not  the  least  impaired  by  age. 
His  coarse  hair,  once  black,  was  now  an 
iron  gray.  His  face  was  thin  and  long, 
with  high  cheek  bones,  pointed  nose,  hol 
low  cheeks,  large  mouth,  and  cold,  gray 
eyes.  The  wonted  expression  of  his  coun 
tenance  was  harsh  and  repulsive,  though 
occasionally  lighted  with  a  humorous,  be 
nevolent  smile.  He  was  generally  liked 
and  respected  by  the  whites,  but  hated  and 
feared  by  the  Indians,  of  whom  he  was  a 
mortal  enemy,  that  seldom  failed  to  take 
their  "  hair  "*  whenever  opportunity  pre 
sented. 

The  next  in  order,  Rash  Will,  as  he 
was  denominated,  was  a  stout,  heavy  built 
nwn,  somewhat  above  the  medium  stature, 
and  about  forty  years  of  age.  He  had  a 
large  Roman  nose  and  mouth,  thick  lips, 
low  forehead,  and  blue  eyes.  The  gen 
eral  expression  of  his  physiognomy  was  a 
blunt,  straight-forwardness,  without  regard 
to  consequences.  He  could  do  a  good 
de*d  or  an  evil  one  ;  and  if  he  could  jus 
tify  the  latter  to  himself,  he  cared  not  a 
straw  for  the  opinions  of  others.  Head 
strong  and  violent  when  excited  by  anger, 
he  had  been  the  author 'of  some  dark  deeds 
among  the  savages,  which  fully  entitled 
him  to  the  appellation  of  Rash  Will. 

The  third  in  order,  Fiery  Ned,  was  about 
tl.irty-five  years  of  age,  of  a  robust,  hand 
some  form,  some  five  feet  ten  inches  in 
hight,  and  fully  developed  in  every  part. 
His  features  were  comely  and  prepossess 
ing.  The  only  marked  points  of  his  coun 
tenance  were  his  eyes — which  were  small, 
black,  restless,  and  piercing — and  his  fore 
head,  which  was  high  and  ample.  His 
temperament  was  ardent,  passionate,  and 
6ery.  At  times  he  was  cool,  frank  and 

•  Scalp. 


generous  ;  but  at  others,  especially  in  an 
Indian  fight,  he  became  wild,  furious,  and, 
in  short,  a  perfect  devil. 

The  last  of  the  four,  Daring  Tom,  was 
the  youngest  and  the  most  to  my  liking  of 
any.  He  was  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
and  of  middling  stature.  Unlike  his  com 
panions,  his  features  were  very  fine,  almost 
effeminate,  with  a  mild,  dignified  expres 
sion,  that  instantly  won  the  regard  of  all 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  He  had 
a  large,  full,  clear  blue  eye,  which  rarely 
varied  in  expression,  be  the  circumstances 
what  they  might.  Cool  and  collected  at 
all  times,  he  was  never  more  so  than  when 
surrounded  by  imminent  danger.  There 
was  no  risk  he  would  not  run  to  serve 
a  friend,  and  on  no  occasion  had  he  ever 
been  known  to  display  the  least  sign  of 
fear — hence  was  he  called  Daring  Tom. 

Such  is  an  outline  sketch  of  the  trappers 
who  had  now  become  our  companions ; 
and  probably,  take  us  all  together,  there 
was  not,  in  the  whole  broad  West,  another 
party  of  the  same  number,  that  could  pre 
sent  a  more  formidable  appearance,  or  per 
form  greater  feats  in  the  heat  of  contest. 

At  the  moment  when  I  came  up  to  the 
fire,  each  of  the  trappers  was  seated  beside 
it  on  the  ground,  cross-legged,  engaged  in 
toasting  slices  of  a  fat  buck,  which  one  of 
them  had  killed  and  brought  in  not  an  hour 
before.  They  were  talking  away  briskly 
all  the  while,  telling  some  wonderful  tale, 
or  cracking  some  joke,  to  the  great  amuse 
ment  of  Teddy  O'Lagherty,  who,  a  little 
apart,  was  seated  in  a  similar  manner  to 
themselves,  and  listening  attentively,  with 
mouth  and  eyes  widely  distended.  A  little 
distance  from  the  fire,  our  hopled  animals 
were  quietly  cropping  the  luxuriant  herb 
age  beneath  them. 

"  So  then,  Charley,"  I  said,  after  having 
taken  a  general  survey,  "  I  suppose  we  are 
to  fatten  on  deer  meat  ?  " 

"  Deer  meat  and  salt,"  he  replied,  with 
a  laugh.  "  The  fancy  preparations  of  civ 
ilization  will  regale  us  no  longer,  and  we 

O  O          •' 

may  be  thankful  if  we  always  get  fare  as 

od  as  this." 

While  saying  this,  Huntly  had  drawn 
nearer  the  fire,  so  that  the  last  remark 
caught  the  ear  of  Black  George,  who  was 
just  on  the  point  of  enforcing  some  asser 
tion  with  an  oath,  but  who  suddenly  stopped 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


short,  and  turned  to  him  with  a  comical 
look. 

"  See  heyar,  young  chap,  didn't  T  hearn 
you  say  you  was  from  Bosson,  or  some 
dch  place  in  the  Stales  ?" 

"Doubtless,"  answered  Huivly,  "  for 
that,  I  am  proud  to  say,  is  my  native  city." 

"  0,  it's  a  citv.  then.  Bi^'s  St.  Louey, 
hey?" 

"  Much  larger." 

"  Do  say.  Why  then  it's  some,  1  reck 
ons." 

"  A  very  flourishing  place." 

"  Hum  !     You  was  born  to  Bosson  ?  " 

"Ay,  and  bred  there." 

"Bread?  O,  that  means  you  was  fod 
dered  thar,  spose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  brought  up  and  educated  there." 

"  Edicated — augy  !  Heyar's  what  never 
did  that;  never  had  no  need  on't  ;  know 
how  to  shoot  and  trap,  but  can't  make  pot 
hooks  ;  can't  tell  'em  when  they  is  made  ; 
know  they's  some,  though,  and  wouldn't 
mind  I  know'd  'em  a  few — but  don't  care 
much  no  how ;  couldn't  live  no  longer  for't ; 
couldn't  '  float  my  sticks  '*  no  better,  spect. 
Well,  for  a  yoxmker,  you've  had  a  right 
smart  chance,  and  I  spose  know  a  heap.f 
Heyar's  what's  born  way  down  to  Ark-an- 
saw,  on  a  swamp  patch,  that  didn't  yield 
nothin  worth  divin  for.  I's  raised  down 
thar,  or  bread,  as  you  calls  it,  young  Bos- 
son,  (spose  you've  got  no  objection  to  beirr 
called  arter  your  natyve  city)  though  al 
mighty  poor  bread  I  was,  for  I  didn't  git 
much  on't  for  a  spell — in  fact  till  I'd  near 
ly  gone  under* — augh  !  Let's  see,  whar 
-was  I?  0,  you's  saying  sumthin  'bout 
bein  thankful  forsich  fare's  tin's.  It  tickled 
me  a  heap — it  did — and  I  had  to  in'ardly 
hold  on  tight  to  my  ribs,  to  keep  from  guf 
fawing.  Why,  young Bossoners,  ( address 
ing  both  of  us)  ef  you'd  seeii  what  I  hev, 
a  piece  like  that  thar,  (pointing  to  the  meat 


*  That  is,  couldn't  get  aloiiff  any  bolter.  This 
Se  a  common  e\pres>iou  iimonjj  the  trappers,  and 
its  moulting  depends  altogether  upon  the  sense  in 
which  it  is  used.  It  is  derived  from  their  occu 
pation.  A  "stick"  is  attached  to  each  trip  by  a 
string,  and  if  the  beaver  runs  away  with  the  trap, 
k,  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  WM-T,  in 
dicates  the  whereabouts  of  the  animal,  and  enables 
the  trapper  to  recover  his  property. 

+  A  western  word,  equivalent  to  "  very  much." 
t  Diod — another  expression  peculiar  to  the  trap- 


poT 


on  the  end  of  his  stick,  which  he  was  toast 
ing  at  the  fire,  \  would  a  bin  a  heaven  on 
arth,  and  no  mistake.  Talk  about  beia 
thankful  for  sich  tare's  this !  Wait  till 
you've  seen  your  hoss  go  under,  and  the 
lyst  end  o'  the  eatable  part  o'  your  possi 
bles  chawed  up,  and  then  talk." 

Here  the  old  man  paused  and  chuckled 
heartily,  and  winked  at  his  companions, 
who  joined  him  in  his  merriment,  to  the 
utter  consternation  of  poor  Teddy,  who, 
with  mouth -wide  open,  and  eyes  enlarged 
to  their  utmost  capacity,  simply  exclaimed: 

"  Howly  murther  !  what  a  baastly  time 
on't  yees  had  !  " 

"  I  suppose  you  have  seen  some  very 
rough  times  ?  "  I  rejoined,  anxious  to  draw 
the  old  man  out  in  some  of  his  wonderful 
tales  of  adventure. 

"Well  I  has,  hoss,"  was  the  quick  re 
sponse:  "and  ef  you  want  to  make  folks 
stare  in  the  States,  you'd  better  jest  jog 
down  one  I've  a  notion  to  tell." 

"  We  shall  all  be  eager  listeners,"  I  re 
joined. 

"  Think  you'd  like  to  hear  it,  hey  ?  " 

"  0,  most  certainly." 

The  old  man  smiled  complacently,  and 
stroked  his  beard  of  a  day's  growth,  in  a 
way  to  denote  that  he  felt  himself  some 
what  complimented. 

"  Got  any  bacca  ?  " 

I  gave  him  a  large  piece. 

"  Well,  plant  yourselves  down  here  in 
talking  distance,  and  while  this  deer  meat's 
sizzling,  I'll  tell  you  a  trump,  and  an  ace 
at  thai." 

Huiuly  and  myself  at  once  seated  our 
selves  upon  the  ground,  as  near  the  old 
man  as  possible,  who,  giving  the  weed  a 
tew  extra  turns  in  his  mouth,  began  the 
tale  which  I  give  in  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THK  OLD  TRAPPEK'S  TALE — ATTACK  ON  HIM 

BY  THE  INDIANS HIS  ESCAPE THE  DEAD 

PURSUER SUFFERINGS THE  MTSTERIOUi 

PKAIKIE  FLOWER,  ETC. 

"  YE  see,  strangers,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  or  Bossonersj  (though  I  spect  it  don't 
make  no  pertikelar  dif'rence  what  I  calls 
ye,  so  it  don't  hurt  your  feelins  none,)  as 


ADVE.NTURES    IN    THE     FAR    WEST 


I  sez  afore,  I  was  raised  down  to  Arkan- 
saw,  or  tharabouts,  and  it's  nigh  on  to 
sixty  year  now  sence  I  fust  tuk  a  center- 
shot  at  daylight,  and  in  course  I've  forgot 
all  the  feelins  a  fust  sight  gin  me.  How- 
Boniever,  that's  nothin  here  nor  tother. 
(I  say  Will,  ef  you've  got  that  thar  bottle 
about  you,  I  doesn't  mind  a  taste,  jest  to 
grease  this  her3  bacca — augh  !  Thankee, 
Will ;  you're  some,  you  is.) 

"Well,  strangers,  you  needn't  'spect 
I'm  agoiu  to  gin  ye  my  whole  hist'ry,  case 
I  isn't,  and  don't  know's  I  could  ef  I  waul 
ed  to,  case  most  on't's  forgot.  So  now  I'll 
jest  jump  over  a  cord  o'  lime,  and  come 
down  to  'bout  four  year  ago  come  next 
Feberry,  when  it  was  so  all-fired  cold,  it 
froze  icykels  on  to  the  star  rays,  and  stop 
ped  'era  comin  down ;  and  the  sun  froze  so 
he  couldn't  shine  ;  and  the  moon  didn't  git 
up  at  all,  she  didn't ;  and  this  here  arth 
was  as  dark  nor  a  stack  o'  chowdered  nig 
gers." 

Here  the  Irishman,  unable  to  stand  it 
longer,  roared  out : 

"  Howly  saints  !  ye're  not  spaking  truth, 
now,  Misther. Black  George?" 

"  Aint  I,  though  ?"  answered  the  old 
trapper,  gravely,  slyly  tipping  the  wink  to 
one  of  his  companions.  "  D'ye  think  I'd 
lie  'bout  it  ?  You  remember  the  time, 
Will  ?  " 

"Well  I  does,  hoss,"  replied  Will,  with 
a  grin. 

•'  In  course  ye  does,  and  so  does  every 
body  that  know'd  anything  'bout  it.  I 
may  hev  exaggerted  a  leetle  'bout  the 
stars  and  them  things,  but  I  jest  tell  ye 
what  was  fact  and  no  mistake,  and  I'll  be 
dog-gone  ef  I  doesn't  stake  my  v'racity  on 
it's  being  true's  preachin  !  " 

Here  the  old  man  made  a  pause. 

"  Well,  well,  go  on  !  "  cried  I. 

"Ay,  ay  !  "  echoed  Huntly. 

"Well,"  said  Black  George,  "a  leetle 
drap  more  o'  that  critter — jest  a  taste — 
case  the  truth  makes  me  so  infernal  dry, 
you  can't  tell.  Augh  !  thankee — (return 
ing  th*1  bottle) — feel  myself  agin  now. 
But  let's  see,  whar  was  I  ?  " 

"  You  were  speaking  about  the  wea 
ther." 

"So  I  was  ;  that's  a  fact ;  I'll  be  dog 
gone  ef  I  wasn't !  Well,  as  I's  sayin,  it 
got  so  cold  that  when  you  /"browed  water  ( 


up  in  the  air,  it  all  froze  afore  it  coutd  git 
down,  and  acterly  had  to  stay  thar,  case 
it  froze  right  on  to  the  atmospheric." 

"On  to  what?" 

"  The  atmospheric." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  You  doesn't  know  what  atmospheric 
is  ?  Well,  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  I'm  goin 
to  'lighten  nobody ;  much's  1  ken  do  tc 
understand  for  myself.  But  I  knows  the 
water  froze  to  that  article,  for  that's  what 
I  hearn  a  schollard  call  it,  and  I  reckon 
he  knowed  a  heap  any  how." 

"Well,  well,  the  story,"  cried  I. 

"  Yes,  well,  I  haint  got  through  tellm 
how  cold  it  was  yit.  Not  only  the  water 
froze  to  the  atmospheric,  but  the  animals 
as  used  to  run  o'  nights  all  quit  the  busi 
ness,  and  you  could  walk  right  up  to  one 
and  pat  him  han'some ;  case  why — his 
eye-sight  was  all  froze  right  up  tight  to 
his  head.  Fact  1  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  it 
wasn't  ! 

"Well,  I'd  bin  out  a  trappin,  and  had 
made  a  purty  good  lick  at  it,  and  was  com 
in  down  to  Bent's  Fort,  to  make  a  lounge 
for  the  winter — leastwise  for  what  was 
left  on't — when  jest  as  I  crossed  Cherry 
Creek,  after  having  left  the  So  the  Platte, 
I  wish  I  may  be  smashed,  ef  I  didn't  see 
'bout  a  dozen  cussed  Rapahos  (Arrapa- 
hoes)  coming  toward  me  on  bosses,  as  ef 
old  Nick  himself  was  arter  'em.  I  looked 
around  me,  and  darned  o'  a  thing  could  I 
see  but  snow  and  ice — and  the  snow  was 
froze  so  hard  that  the  bosses'  and  muleys' 
feet  didn't  make  no  impression  on't.  I 
was  all  alone,  boss-back,  with  three  good 
muleys,  all  packed  han'some,  for  Jim  Da 
vis — him  as  traveled  with  me — and  Andy 
Forsker,  another  chap  that  made  our  par 
ty—had  gone  round  another  way,  jest  for 
fear  o'  them  same  painted  heathen  as  was 
now  comin  up.  But  ye  see  I'd  bin  bolder 
nor  them,  and  now  I  was  a-goin  to  pay 
for't,  sartin  ;  for  I  seed  by  thar  looks,  they 
was  bound  to  'raise  my  hair'*  ef  I  didn't 
do  somethin  for  my  country  quicker.  1 
looked  all  around  me,  and  thought  I  was 
a  gone  beaver  fast  enough.  I  had  a  purty 
good  hoss  under  me,  and  I  knowed  he 
only  could  save  me,  and  a  mighty  slim 
chance  he'd  have  on't  at  that.  Howsom- 

*  Take  my  scalp 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


ever.  I  reckoned  it  wasn't  best  to  say  die 
ef  I  could  live,  and  I  didnt'  like  the  notion 
o'  bein  '  rubbed  out  '*  by  sich  a  dog-gone 
scriraptious  lookin  set  o'  half  humans  as 
them  thar  Rapahos.  I  cast  around  me, 
and  seed  that  old  Sweetlove,  (rifle)  am' 
IHT  pups,  (pistols)  and  my  butchers, 
(knife  and  tomahawk)  was  all  about ;  and 
so  J  jest  swore  I'd  set  my  traps  and  make 
oin-  on  'em  '  come,'  ef  I  '  went  a  woltin' 
for  it. 

"I  sauf  thar  was  'bout  a  dozen — maybe 
m<>re — nn  1  they  was  ticklin  thar  bosses' 
ribs  migluy  han'some,  you'd  better  believe, 
and  a-comm  for  me  with  a  parfect  loose 
ness,  every  one  on  'em  carryin  a  bow,  and 
every  bow  bent  with  an  arrer  in  it.  I 
knowed  my  muleys  was  gone,  sartin,  and 
all  my  traps  and  furs  ;  but  jest  then  I  felt 
so  all -tired  mad,  that  I  thought  ef  I  could 
throw  a  couple,  I  wouldn't  care  a  kick. 
So  instead  o'  trying  to  run  away,  I  hollered 
'  Whoa  '  to  the  animals,  and  waited  for  the 
redskins  to  come  up. — (Jest  a  drap  more 
o'  that,  Rash,  ef  you  please  ;  for  this  here 
hoss  is  as  dry  to-night  as  a  dog-worried 
skunk. 

"  Well,  on  they  comes,  thunderin  away 
like  a  newly  invented  arthquake,  and  I 
'spected  for  sartin  I  was  a  gone  beaver. 
Jest  afore  they  got  up  so  as  they  could  let 
thar  shafts  riddle  me,  the  infernal  cowards, 
seein  as  how  I  didn't  budge,  had  the  ou- 
daciousness  to  come  to  a  halt,  and  stare  at 
me  as  ef  I  was  a  kangaroo.  I.  raised 
Sweetlove,  and  told  her  to  tell  'em  I's 
about,  and  'some  in  a  bar  fight.'  She  an 
swered  right  han'some,  did  Sweetlove,  and 
down  the  for'ard  one  d  rapped  right  purty, 
he  did.  Well,  this  sot  the  rest  on  'em  in 
a  rage,  and  afore  I  knowed  it,  they  was  all 
round  me,  yell  in  like  the  old  Scratch. 
Half  a  dozen  shafts  come  hissin  through 
my  buckskins,  and  two  on  'em  stuck  right 
in  my  meat- bag,  and  made  me  feel  all  over 
in  spots  like  a  Guinea  nigger.  Instanter 
I  pulled  out  Sweetlove's  pups,  and  set  'em 
to  barkin,  and  two  more  o'  the  humans 
drapped  down  to  see  how  the  snow  felt. 
Knowin'  it  wasn't  no  use  to  be  foolin  my 
time,  I  jeiked  the  ropes,  and  told  Skinflint 
to  travel  afore  my  hair  was  raised,  leavin 
tke  muleys  to  do  what  they  liked. 


Rifled. 


"  Seein  me  a-goin,  the  oudacious  Rapa- 
hos  thought  they'd  stop  me  ;  but  I  rid  right 
through  'em  purty,  and  got  another  arrer 
in  m-  back  for  it. 

"  Arter  I'd  got  away,  I  looked  round  and 
seed  two  on  'em  a-comin  like  all  possessed, 
with  their  lariats  doubled  for  a  throw.  I 
knowed  ef  they  got  near  enough,  I'd  be 
snaked  off  like  a  dead  nigger,  and  my  hair 
raised  afore  I  could  say  Jack  Robinson 
Maybe  I  didn't  ax  Skinflint  to  dc  his  purti- 
est,  and  maybe  he  didn't,  hey  !  Why  he 
left  a  trail  o'  tire  behind  him,  as  he  went 
over  that  frozen  snow,  that  looked  for  all 
nater  like  a  streak  o'  big  lightnin.  But  it 
didn't  seem  to  be  o'  no  use  ;  for  the  infer 
nal  scamps  come  thunderin  on,  jest  about 
so  fur  behind,  and  I  seed  thar  bosses  was 
all  o'  the  right  stuff.  The  sun  was  about 
a  two  hour  up,  and  thar  he  stayed,  he  did  ; 
for  it  was  so  almighty  cold,  as  I  said  afoi-e, 
he  couldn't  get  down  to  hide. 

"Well,  on  we  run,  and  run,  and  run, 
till  the  bosses  smoked  and  puffed  like  a 
Massassip  steamer,  and  still  we  run.  I 
made  tracks  as  nigh  as  I  could  calculoto 
for  the  mountains,  in  the  direction  of  Pike'u 
Peak,  and  on  we  went,  as  ef  old  Brira 
stone  was  arter  us.  I  calculated  my  chasers 
'ud  git  tired  and  gin  in  ;  but  they  was  the 
real  grit,  and  didn't  seem  to  mind  it.  At 
last  they  begun  to  gain  on  me,  and  I 
knowed  from  the  'signs'  o'  Skinflint,  thyt 
he'd  have  to  go  under,  sure's  guns,  ef  I 
didn't  come  to  a  rest  purty  soon.  You'd 
better  believe  I  felt  queer  jest  then,  and 
thought  over  all  my  sins,  with  the  arrers 
sticking  in  my  belly  and  back  like  all  git 
out.  I  tried  to  pray  ;  but  I'd  never  larnt 
no  prayers  when  a  pup,  and  now  I  was  too 
old  a  dog  to  ketch  new  tricks ;  besides,  it 
was  so  all-fired  cold,  that  my  thoughts 
stuck  in  my  head  like  they  was  pinned 
thar  with  icykels.  I'd  been  chased  afore 
by  the  Comanches  and  Blackfoot,  by  the 
Pawnees  and  Kickapoos,  by  the  Crows 
and  Chickasaws,  but  I'd  never  had  sich 
fcelins  as  now.  The  short  on't  is,  boys,  I 
was  gittin  the  squaw  into  me,  and  I  knowed 
it ;  but  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  I  cculd  help  it, 
to  save  my  hair,  that  stood  up  so  stiff  and 
straight  as  to  raise  my  hat  and  let  the 
atmospheric  in  about  a  feet.  I  was  gittin 
outrageous  cold,  too,  and  could  feel  my 
I  heart  pwmpin  up  icykels  by  the  sack  full, 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    PAR    WEST. 


31 


ami  I  knowed  death  was  about  sartain  as 
daylight. 

"  'Well,'  sez  I  to  myself,  'old  hoss, 
VOU'VP  got  to  go  under  and  lose  your  top 
knot,  so  what's  the  use  a  kickin  ?' 

"  'Howsomever,'  I  answered,  'sposin  I 
has,  I  reckon's  best  to  die  game,  ain't  it  ?' 
and  with  this  I  pulled  old  Sweetlove  round 
and  commenced  fodderin  her  as  best  I 
could.  She  knowed  what  was  wanted,  did 
Sweetlove,  and  looked  right  sassy,  I'll  be 
dog-gone  ef  she  didn't. 

"  'You're  a  few,  aint  you  ?'  sez  I,  as  I 
rammed  home  an  all-fired  charge  of  pow 
der,  that  made  her  grunt  like  forty. 

"Well,  I  turned  round,  fetched  her  up 
to  my  face,  and  'drawin  a  bead'*  on  to 
the  nearest,  pulled  the  trigger. 

"  Now  you  needn't  believe  it  without  ye 
take  a  notion,  but  I'll  be  rumfuzzled  (stir 
that  fire,  Ned,  or  this  here  meat  won't 
git  toasted  till  midnight),  ef  she  didn't 
hold  shoot  about  a  minnet,  and  I  all  the 
time  squintin  away  too,  afore  the  fire  could 
melt  the  ice  round  the  powder  and  let  her 
off.  That's  a  fact ! — I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  it 
wasn't ! 

"Well,  she  went  off  at  last,  she  did, 
with  a  whoosss-k  cheeesss-cup  cho-bang, 
and  1  hope  I  may  be  dogged  for  a  possum, 
ef  one  o'  my  chasers  didn't  hev  to  pile 
himself  on  a  level  with  his  moccasin  right 
ban  some.  Now  I  thought  as  how  this  'ud 
start  the  wind  out  o'  t'other,  and  put  him 
on  the  back'ard  track.  But  it  didn't.  He 
did'nt  seem  to  mind  it  no  more'n's  ef  it 
was  the  commonest  thing  out. 

"'Well,'  thinks  1  to  myself,  'maybe 
you'll  ketch  a  few  ef  you  keep  foolin  your 
time  that-a-ways  ;'  and  so  1  set  to  work 
and  foddered  Sweetlove  agin. 

"By  this  time  poor  Skinflint,  I  seed, 
was  gittin  top-heavy  right  smart,  and  I 
knowed  ef  I  done  anything,  it  'ud  hev  to 
be  done  afore  the  beginnin  o'  next  month, 
01  'twouldn't  b<>  o'  no  use,  not  a  darned 
bit.  Well,  I  took  squint  agin,  plum-center, 
and  blazed  away ;  but  hang  me  up  for 
Dar's  meat,  ef  it  made  the  least  difference 
with  the  skunk  of  a  Rapaho.  I  was  par- 
feet  dumfouzled  ;  complete  used  up  ;  for 
I'd  never  missed  a  target  o'  that  size  afore, 
•ence  I  was  big  enough  to  shoot  pop-guns 


'Taking  close  sight. 


to  flies.  I  felt  sort  o'  chawed  up.  Never 
felt  so  ail  of  a  heap  afore  but  once't,  and 
that  was  when  I  axed  Suke  Harris  to  hev 
me,  and  she  said  'No.' 

"  Now  you'd  better  calculate  I  hadn't 
no  great  deal  o'  time  to  think,  for  thar  he 
was  —  the  cussed  Injin  —  jest  as  plain  as 
the  nose  on  your  face,  and  a-comin  full 
split  right  at  me,  with  his  rope  quirled  in 
his  hand,  jest  ready  for  a  throw.  Quicker 
as  winkin,  I  foddered  Sweetlove  agin,  and 
gin  him  another  plum-center,  which  in 
course  I  spected  would  knock  the  hind 
sights  off  him.  Did  it  ?  Now  you  ken 
toke  my  possibles,  traps  and  muleys,  ef  it 
did.  Did  it  ?  No  !  reckons  it  didn't.  Thar 
he  sot,  straight  up  and  down,  a  thunderin 
on,  jest  as  ef  the  arth  was  made  for  his 
special  purpose.  I  begun  to  git  skeered 
in  arnest,  and  thought  maybe  it  was  the 
devil  deformed  into  a  Injin  ;  and  I'd  a  no 
tion  to  put  in  a  silver  bullet,  only  I  didn't 
happen  to  have  none  'bout  me. 

"  On  he  come,  the  scamp,  and  I  bolted — 
or  tried  to  rayther  —  for  Skinflint  had 
got  used  up,  and  down  he  pitched,  sending 
me  right  plum  over  his  noddle  on  to  my 
back,  whar  I  lay  sprawlin  like  a  bottle  o' 
spilt  whisky. 

'"It's  all  up  now,  and  I'm  a  gone  pos 
sum,'  sez  I,  as  I  seed  the  Injin  come  tearin 
ahead ;  and  I  drawed  the  old  butcher,  and 
tried  to  feed  one  o'  the  pups,  but  my  fin 
gers  was  so  numb  I  couldn't. 

"  Well  up  rides  old  Rapaho,  lookin  as 
savage  nor  a  meat-axe,  his  black  eyes 
shinin  like  two  coals  o'  fire.  Well  now, 
what  d'ye  think  he  did  ?  Did  he  shoot  me  ? 
No  !  Did  he  rope  (lassoo)  me  ?  No  !  Did 
he  try  to  ?  No,  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  he  did!" 

"  What  did  he  do  ?  "  inquired  I,  quickly. 

"  Ay,  ay,  what  did  he  do  ? "  echoed 
Huntly. 

"  Howly  Mary  !  if  ye  knows  what  he 
did,  Misther  George,  spaak  it,  jist,  and  re- 
lave  yer  mind  now,  "  put  in  the  Irishman. 

The  old  trapper  smiled. 

"Rash,"  he  said,  "  ef  that  thar  bottle 
isn't  empty,  I'll  jest  take  another  pull.  " 

"  Taint  all  gone  yit,"   answered   Rash 
Will ;  "  'spect  'twill  be  soon  ;  but  go  it, 
old  hoss,  and  gin  us  the  rest  o'  that       .1 
Rapahos  affair." 

The  old  man  drank,  smacked  his  lips, 
smiled,  and  remarked : 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR, 


"  How  comfortable  deer  meat  smells.  " 

"  But  the  Rapaho/'  cried  I,  "  what  did 
IIP  do  ?  " 

"Do!"  answered  Black  George,  with 
a  singular  expression  that  I  could  not  de- 
tine  :  "Do  !  why  he  rid  up  to  my  hoss  and 
stopped,  he  did ;  and  didn't  do  nothin 
else,  he  didn't." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  Case  he  was  done  for." 

"  Dead  ?  " 

"  As  dog  meat — augh  !  " 

"  All  !  you  had  killed  him.then?"  cried  I. 

"  No  I  hadn't  though.  " 

"  What  then  ?  '" 

"  He'd  died  himself,  Ke  had." 

"How,  died  ?" 

"  Froze,  young  Bossons — froze  as  stiff 
nor  a  white  oak.  " 

_"  Froze  !  "  echoed  two  or  three  voices, 
mine  among  the  rest. 

"  Yes,  blaze  my  old  carcass  and  send 
me  a  wollin,  ef  he  hadn't !  and  I,  like  a 

fool,  had  been  runnin  away  from  a 

dead  nigger.  Maybe  I  did'nt  swear  some, 
andj^ay  a  few  thataint  spoke  in  the  pulpit. 
You'd  jest  better  believe,  strangers,  I  felt 
soft  as  a  chowdered  possum." 

"But  how  had  he  followed  you  if  he 
was  dead  ?  " 

"  He  hadn't,  not  pertikerlarly  ;  but  his 
hoss  had  ;  for  in  course  he  didn't  know  his 
rider  was  rubbed  out ;  and  so  he  kept  on 
arter  mine,  till  the  divin  o'  old  Skinflint 
fetched  him  up  a-standin." 

"Of  course  you  were  rejoiced  at  your 
escape  ?  " 

"  Why,  sort  o'  so,  and  sort  o'  not;  for  I 
felt  so  all-fired  mean,  to  think  I'd  bin  run 
nin  from  and  shootin  to  a  dead  Injin,  that 
for  a  long  spell  1  couldn't  git  wind  enough 
to  say  nothin. 

"At  last  I  sez,  sez  I,  '  This  here's  purty 
business  now,  aint  it  ?  I  reckons,  old  bea 
ver,  you've  had  little  to  do,  to  be  foolin 
your  time  and  burnin  your  powder  this 
way  ; '  and  then  I  outs  with  old  butcher, 
and  swore  I'd  raise  his  hair. 

"  Well,  I  coaxed  my  way  up  to  his  old 
hoss,  and  got  hold  on  himself;  but  it  wasn't 
a  darned  bit  o'  use  ;  he  was  froze  tight  to 
the  saddle.  I  tried  to  cut  into  him,  but 
Til  be  dog-gone  ef  my  kuife  ud  enter 
more'n  'twould  into  a  stcr.e.  Jest  then 
\  luk  a  look  round,  and  may  I  be  rum- 


boozled,  ef  the  sun  hadn't  got  thawed  a 
leetle,  and,  arter  strainin  so  hard,  had  gone 
down  with  a  jump  right  behind  a  big  ridge. 

"  '  Well,'  sez  1,  '  this  nigger'd  better°be 
making  tracks  somewhar,  or  he'll  spile, 
sure.' 

"So  wishin  old  Rapaho  a  pleasant  time 
on't  I  tried  Skinflint,  but  ^ndin  it  wasn't 
no  go,  X  gathered  up  sieh  things  from  my 
possibles  as  I  couldn't  do  without,  pulled 
the  arrers  out  o'  me,  and  off  I  sot  for  a 
ridge  'bout  five  mile  away. 

"When  I  got  thar,  it  was  so  dark  you 
couldn't  tell  a  tree  from  a  nigger  ;  and  the 
wind — phe-ew  ! — it  blowed  so  one  time 
that  I  had  to  hitch  on  to  a  rock  to  keep 
myself  any  whar.  I  tried  to  strike  a  fire, 
but  my  fingers  was  so  cold  I  couldn't,  and 
the  snow  had  kivered  up  every  tiling,  so 
that  thar  wasn't  nothin  to  make  it  on. 

" '  It's  a  screech er,'  I  sez,  to  myself, 
'  and  afore  daylight  I'll  be  rubbed  out, 
sartin.' 

"  At  last  I  begun  to  feel  so  queer,  and 
so  sleepy  I  couldn't  hardly  keep  open  my 
peepers.  I  knowed  ef  I  laid  down  and 
slept,  I  was  a  gone  beaver  ;  and  so  stum- 
blin  about,  I  got  hold  o'  a  tree,  and  begun 
to  climb  ;  and  when  I  got  up  high  enough, 
I  slid  down  agin  ;  and  you'd  better  believe 
this  here  operation  felt  good— ef  it  didn't 
I  wouldn't  tell  ye  so. 

"  The  whole  blessed  night  I  worked  in 
this  way,  and  it  blowin,  and  snowin,  amd 
freezin  all  the  time  like  sixty.  At  h,st 
mornin  come,  but  it  was  a  darned  long 
time  about  it,  and  arter  I'd  gin  in  tlat 
daylight  wasn't  no  whar. 

"  Well,  soon's  I  could  see,  off  I  sot,  amd 
traveled,  and  traveled,  I  didn't  know 
which  way  nor  whar,  till  night  had  come 
agin,  and  I  hadn't  seen  nothin  human — 
and  besides,  I'd  eat  up  all  my  fodder.  I 
tried  to  shoot  somethin,  but  I'll  be  dogged 
ef  thar  was  any  varmints  to  shoot  o'  no 
kind — they  was  all  froze  up  tighter  nor 
darnation. 

"  That  night  went  like  w.  ther,  in  rubbin 
a  tree  ;  and  the  next  day  I  sot  on  agin,  and 
traveled  till  night,  without  eatin  a  bit  o' 
food.  I  had  a  leetle  bacca,  and  that  1 
chawed  like  all  git  out,  until  I'd  chawed  il 
all  up,  and  begun  to  think  I  was  chawed 
up  myself.  I'd  got,  though,  whar  1  could 
find  a  few  sticks,  and  I  made  a  fire,  and 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


33 


tt'd  a  jest  done  ye  good  to  seen  the  way  I 
sot  to  it. 

"  The  next  mornin  I  put  on  agin,  but 
I'd  got  so  powerful  weak,  that  I  rolled 
round  like  I'd  been  spilin  a  quart.  Night 
come  agin,  and  I'd  got  worse  tangled  up 
nor  ever,  and  didn't  know  the  piht  o'  com 
pass  from  a  buffler's  tail. 

"'  WeH,  it's  all  up  with  this  here  coon,' 
T  sez  ;  '  and  so  what's  the  use  o'  tryin  ? 
Might  as  well  die  now  as  when  I've  got 
more  sins  to  count ; '  and  so  givin  old 
Svveetlove  a  smack,  and  tellin  her  to  be  a 
o-ood  gal,  I  keeled  over  as  nateral  as  shoot- 
in.  I  looked  up'ard,  and  seed  a  bright 
star  that  'ud  just  thawed  its  way  down, 
and  thinkin  maybe  I'd  be  thar  soon,  I  gin 
in  and  shut  my  peepers,  as  I  spected  for 
the  last  time. 

"  How  long  I  laid  thar  I  never  knowed, 
and  never  spect  to  ;  but  when  I  seed  day 
light  agin,  I  found  this  here  hoss  in  a  In- 
jin  lodge,  somewhar  about,  and  tickle  me 
with  a  pitch  pine-knot  ef  I  ever  knowed 
exactly  whar — for  I  forgot  to  'blaze'*  the 
place,  and  couldn't  never  find  it  agin.  At 
fust,  in  course,  I  thought  I  was  in  the  oth 
er  country  folks  tells  about ;  and  Chinks  I, 
I've  bin  stuck  among  the  Injins,  jest  to 
punish  me  for  raisin  so  much  hair  while 
on  the  arth.  I  begun  to  git  skeered,  I  tell 
ye  ;  but  it  wasn't  long  afore  I  seed  a  sight 
that  made  it  seem  like  Heaven  anyhow — 
leastwise  I  felt  perfectly  willin  to  be  pun 
ished  that  way  etarnally,  I  did.  (I  say, 
Bosson,  got  any  more  bacca  ?  This  here 
travels  like  a  May  frost.") 


as  I  hastily  supplied  him  with  the  desired 


article. 

"  See,  sposin  you  guess  now. 


You're 


what  they  calls  Yankee,  and  ort  to  guess 
any  thing."' 

"0,  I  could  not  guess  it,  I  am  satis 
fied." 

"  I  can  now,"  said  the  Irishman. 

"  Well,  Teddy,  out  with  it." 

"  Why,  he  saan  a  bothel  o'  whisky,  in 
course  ;  what  else  should  he  sae  to  make 
him  happy  all  of  a  sudden  ?  " 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed  this  witty 


•  To  "  blaze  *'  a  tree  is  to  mark  it  with  an  axe, 
or  in  some  way,  so  that  it  can  be  identified.  A 
'  blazed  path  "  is  one  so  marked  throughout. 

3 


reply,  in  which  Black  George  good  hu- 
moredly  joined. 

"Well,  you  is  some  at  guessin,  you  is,"' 
replied  the  old  trapper  ;  but  you   didn't 
quite  hit  it,  hoss.     I  say,  strangers,  what's 
the  purtiest  sight  you  ever  seed  on  the 
arth?" 

"  A  beautiful  female,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  that's  jest  what  I  seen.  I  seed 
afore  me  a  critter  in  the  shape  o'  a  gal, 
that  was  the  most  purty  I  ever  drawed 
bead  on." 

"  A  beautiful  girl !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  stranger,  she  wasn't  nothin  else, 
she  wasn't — I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  she  was  ! " 

"  Describe  her  !  " 

"  Jest  describe  a  angel,  and  you've  got 
her  to  a  T — ef  you  haven't,  why  was  bea 
vers  growed?  that's  all." 

"Who  was  she?" 

"  Well  now,  hoss,  you're  gittin  into  the 
picters,  and  headin  off  this  old  coon  right 
center.  I  never  knowed  who  she  was, 
unless  she  was  a  sperit — for  I'll  be  dog 
gone  ef  ever  I  seed  any  thing  half  as  de 
cent  'bout  a  Injin." 

"  Can  you  not  describe  her  ?  " 

"  Describe  thunder  !  Why  she  was  the 
tallest  specimen  of  a  human  as  ever  sp'ilt 
par-flesh  of  buffler,  she  was.  She  had 
long  hair,  black  as  a  nigger  in  a  thunder 
cloud  ;  and  eyes  black  too ;  and  so  large 
and  bright  you  could  see  to  shave  in  'em 
as  easy  as  trappin.  And  then  sich  a  face  ! 
— well  that  was  a  face,  now,  or  I  wouldn't 
tell  ye  so.  It  kept  puttin  me  in  mind  o' 
summer  weather  and  persimmons,  it  was 


"  Well,  what  did  you  see  ?  "  I  inquired, <,So  almighty  warm  and  sweet  lookin.     0, 

T     t  i  *  1  I'll-  •  ,  1         jl  I    "       •  1  O  •/ 


sich  a  nose — sich  lips — sich  teeth — and, 
heavens  and  arth  !  sich  a  smile  !  (A  drop 
more,  Will,  for  this  child's  mouth's  gittia 
watery  a  thinkin,  and  that  meat  looks  like 
feedin  time." 

"  Why,  now,  you  have  raised  my  curi 
osity  to  the  highest  point,"  I  said,  "and 
so  I  must  have  the  rest  of  the  story  forth 
with." 

"  Boys  often   git  thar  curiosity   raised 
out  here-aways,  and  thar  hair  too  some 
times,"  replied  the  old  hunter,  coolly,  tak 
ing  his  meat  off  the  stick  and  commencing 
to  eat. 

"  But  you're  going  to  finish  your  story 
George  ?  "  queried  Huntly,  quickly. 

"Why,  I  spect  I'll  hev  to;    but  l'I 


34 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR 


make  it  short ;  for  I  never  likes  to  talk 
much  'bout  that  gal ;  I  al'ays  feel  so  much 
all  overish,  I  can't  tell  ye  how." 

"Perhaps  you  got  in  love  with  her," 
returned  Huntly,  jocosely. 

Tho  old  trapper  suddenly  paused,  with 
the  meat  half  way  to  his  mouth,  and  turn 
ed  upon  my  friend  with  a  frown  and  gleam 
ing  eyes. 

"  Look  heyar,  boy,"  he  said,  "you  didn't 
mean  to  insult  this  child,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  Far  from  it,"  answered  Hunliy,  quick 
ly.  "I  only  spoke  in  jest,  and  crave  par 
don  if  I  offended." 

"  'Twon't  do  to  jest  about  everything, 
young  chap,  case  thar  is  spots  as  won't 
bear  rub  bin.  Howsomever,  I  sees  you 
didn't  mean  nothin,  and  so  I'll  not  pack 
it.  Talkin  of  love  !  Now  I  doesn't  know 
much  'bout  the  article,  though  I've  seed 
nigh  sixty  year,  and  never  was  spliced  to 
no  gal  ;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  'tis,  Bosson, 
ef  I'd  bin  thirty  year  younger,  ef  I  hadn't 
made  tracks  with  that 'ar  gal,  and  hitched, 
then  call  me  a  nigger  and  let  me  spile." 

"  How  old  was  she  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Jest  old  enough  to  be  purty,  she 
was." 

"  But  how  had  she  found  you  so  oppor 
tunely?" 

"  That's  whar  I'm  fooled  ;  for  though  I 
axed  her,  and  she  told  me,  I'll  be  dog-gone 

O     O 

ef  I  wasn't  thinkin  how  purty  she  looked 
when  she  talked,  and  let  the  whole  on't 
slip  me  like  tryin  to  throw  a  buffler  with  a 
greased  rope.  All  I  could  ever  ketch  on't 
was,  that  she,  or  some  other  Tnjin,  or  some 
body  else,  come  across  me,  and  tuk  me  in, 
did  up  my  scratches,  and  fetched  me  sen 
sible.  She  said  she  was  purty  much  of. a 
beaver  among  the  Injins,  and  could  do 
'bout  as  she  tuk  a  notion  ;  but  that  ef  I 
wanted  my  hair,  I'd  better  be  leavin  right 
smartly,  or  maybe  I'd  be  made  meat  of — 
tugh  ! 

"  Well,  arter  it  come  dark,  she  packed 
some  fodder  for  me,  and  acterly  went  her 
self  along  and  seed  me  through  the  camp  — 
for  it  wasn't  a  reg'lar  village  of  Injins  no 
tow. 

"  '  What  tribe's  this  ? '  I  axed,  arter  I'd 
got  ready  to  quit. 

" '  That  you  musn't  know,'  she  scz. 
•  Ax  no  questions,  but  set  your  face  that- 
»-irays,  and  keep  your  nose  afore  ye  till 


daylight,  and  don't  come  heyar  agin,  os 

you're  dead  nigger." 

"'But  ef  you  won't  tell  this  child  the 
Injins,  tell  me  who  you  is  !  " 

"  '  I'm  called  Leni-Leoti,  or  Perrarie- 
Flower,',sez  she  ;  and  then  afore  I  could 
say,  '  0,  you  is  hey! '  she  turned  anl  put 
back  like  darnation. 

"  I'd  a  great  notion  to  fuller  her,  and  I 
cussed  myself  arterwards  case  I  didn't; 
but  I  spect  I  was  feelin  green  then,  and 
so  I  did  jest  as  she  told  me — ef  I  didn't, 
I  wish  I  may  be  dogged  !  When,  it  come 
mornin,  I  looked  all  round,  and  concluded 
I  was  on  tother  side  of  the  '  Divide.'  So 
!  I  tuk  si  new  track,  and  arter  many  days' 
j  travel,  fetched  up  in  Brown's  Hole,  whar  I 
found  lots  of  trappers,  and  spent  the  win 
ter — augh  !  Now  don't  ax  no  more,  for 
you've  got  all  this  hoss  is  agoin  to  tell ; 
for  the  whisky's  out,  the  bacca's  low,  this 
coon's  hungered,  and  the  meat's  a  spilin." 

Here,  sure  enough,  the  old  trapper  came 
to  a  pause  ;  and  although  I  felt  a  deep  in 
terest  to  know  more  about  the  singular 
being  he  had  described,  Prairie-Flower,  I 
saw  it  would  be  useless  to  question  him 
further.  The  conversation  now  turned  up 
on  trivial  affairs,  in  which  neither  Huntly 
nor  myself  took  much  interest.  We  felt 
wearied  and  hungry  ;  and  so  after  regaling 
ourselves  on  toasted  deer  meat,  without 
bread,  and  only  a  little  salt,  and  having 
seen  our  animals  driven  in  and  picketed — 
that  is,  fastened  to  a  stake  in  the  ground, 
by  a  long  lariat  or  rope  of  skin,  so  that 
they  could  feed  in  a  circle — \ve  threw  our 
selves  upon  the  earth  around  the  fire,  and, 
with  no  covering  but  our  garments  and 
the  broad  canopy  of  heaven,  brilliantly 
studded  with  thousands  on  thousands  of 
stars,  slept  as  sweetly  and  soundly  as  ever 
we  did  in  a  thick-peopled  settlement., 


CHAPTER    VII 

MORNING  SCENE CONVERSATION BOTH  I* 

LOVE LUDICKOUS  MISTAOI OLD  FEEir 

INGS  TOUCHED INTERKt'ETICX. 

AT  the  first  tinge  of  day  bicj-k  on  tho 
following  morning,  I  sprang  to  my  feet, 
and  rousing  Huntly,  we  stole  quietly  from 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


the  circle  of  sleeping  trappers,  and  took 
our  way  to  the  eminence  from  which  I  had 
viewed  the  farewell  of  day  the  evening  pre 
vious.  It  was  a  splendid  morning,  and  the 
air,  clear,  soft  and  balmy,  was  not  stirred 
by  a  single  zephyr.  As  we  ascended  the 
knoll  and  looked  toward  the  east,  we  could 
barely  perceive  a  faint  blush  indicating  the 
rosy  d  iwn  of  day,  while  a  soft,  gray  light 
spread  sweetly  over  the  scene,  and  the  stars, 
growing  less  and  less  bright,  gradually  be 
gan  to  disappear  from  our  view.  Presently 
the  blush  of  morn  took  a  deeper  hue,  and 
gently  expanding  on  either  hand,  blended 
beautiful  ly  with  the  deepening  blue.  Then 
golden  flashes  shot  upward,  growing  bright 
er  and  brighter,  till  it  seemed  as  if  the  world 
were  on  tire  ;  while  night,  slowly  receding, 
gradually  revealed  the  lovely  prairie  to  our 
enchanted  gaze.  Brighter,  more  golden, 
more  beautiful  grew  the  east,  and  brighter 

o  '  O 

the  light  around  us,  until  the  stars  had  all 
become  hidden,  and  objects  far  and  near 
could  be  distinctly  traced,  standing  out  in 
soft  relief  from  the  green  earth  and  the 
blue  and  golden  sky. 

'•Magnificent!"  I  exclaimed,  turning 
toward  my  friend,  who  was  standing  with 
his  face  to  the  east,  his  gaze  fixed  on  high, 
appaiently  lost  in  contemplation. 

He  did  not  reply,  and  repeating  my  ex 
clamation,  I  lightly  touched  him  on  the 
arm.  He  started  suddenly,  and  turned  to 
mt  with  an  expression  so  absent,  so  vacant, 
that  I  felt  a  slight  alarm,  and  instantly 
added : 

'•  Huntly,  are  you  ill  ?  " 

"111,  Frank?  No!  no!  not  ill  by  any 
means,"  he  replied.  "  Why  do  you  ask ?  " 

"  You  appeared  so  strangely." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  where  think  you  were 
my  thoughts  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  " 

"  True  enough,  and  I  will  tell  you.  I 
was  thinking  of  that  fair  being  we  rescued 
from  the  flames." 

"  And  why  of  her  now  ?  " 

"  Not  only  now,  Frank,  but  she  fills  my 
thoughts  more  than  you  are  aware.  Often 
do  I  see  her  in  my  dreams  ;  and  the  mere 
resemblance  of  yonder  sky  to  fire,  vividly 
recalled  to  mind  that  never-to-be  forgotten 
Bight  when  (irst  I  beheld  her." 

"  Charley,  you  are  in  love." 

'•  It  may  be,"  he  answered  with  a  sigh  ; 


"  but,  alas  !  if  so,  I  love  one  whom  1  shall 
never  behold  again  ;  "  and  he  dropped  his 
head  upon  his  .bosom  in  a  musing  mood. 

"Nay,  nay,  old  friend,"  I  said  gaily; 
"  it  will  not  do  for  you  to  be  getting  senti 
mentally  love-sick,  away  out  here  upon  the 
prairies.  Who  knows  but  some  day  she 
you  are  thinking  of,  may,  in  spite  of  your 
now  doleful  looks,  become  your  wife  !  " 

"  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  in  quick  reply, 
with  a  look  of  reproach,  "  if  you  knew  my 
feelings,  you  would  not  wound  them,  I  am 
sure,  by  untimely  jests." 

"  Good  heavens  !  Charley,"  I  exclaimed, 
in  surprise,  at  once  grasping  his  hand  with 
a  hearty  pressure  ;  "I  wound  your  feel 
ings  ?  Why  such  a  thought  never  entered 
my  head.  I  spoke  jestingly,  it  is  true ; 
but  I  was  not  aware  that  the  affair  had 
become  so  serious.  I  was  thinking  at  the 
time  that  one  ailing  youth  in  our  camp  was 
sufficient." 

"  To  whom  do  you  allude  ?  " 

"Myself." 

"  How  so  ?  I  w»s  not  aware  that  you 
were  ailing,  as  you  call  it." 

"  Why,  do  you  not  know  that  I  am  in 
love,  like  yourself?  " 

"  Heavens  !  not  with  her,  Frank — not 
with  her  ?  "  cried  my  friend,  grasping  my 
arm  nervously,  and  peering  into  my  face 
with  a  searching  glance. 

"  Ay,  Charles,  and  I  thought* you  knew 
it.  I  acted  wrongly,  I  know,  and  have 
deeply  repented  since." 

"  But  then,  you — you — love  her  still, 
Frank  ?  " 

"  Devotedly,  as  God  is  my  judge !  " 
«    Huntly  released  my  arm  with  a  groan, 
and  turned  away  his  head. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Charles?  '* 
I  inquired,  in  a  tone  of  alarm. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  it  me  before  ?  " 
he  said,  with  a  long,  deep  sigh. 

"  First,  because  it  is  a  delicate  subject, 
and  I  did  not  like  to  mention  it.  Second 
ly,  because  you  have  never  before  alluded 
to  it  yourself." 

"  True  ;  but  I  did  not  dream  it  was  so* 
0  God  !  why,  then,  did  you  not  let  me 
perish  in  the  flames  ?" 

"  Perish,  Charles  ? — how  strangely  you 
talk  !  Why  should  I  have  let  you  pensh?  " 

"  To  end  my  misery." 

"  Misery  ?     You   alarm  me,   Charles 


36 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


you  are  not  well — you  have  bad  news — 
or  something  has  happened  which  you 
have  kept  from  me?" 

"You  love  her,  you  say — is  not  that 
enough  ?  But  go  on  !  I  will  yield  all  to 
you.  1  will  not  stand  in  your  way.  No! 
sooner  would  I  die  than  mar  your  happi 
ness.  But  I  regret  I  did  not  know  of  it 
before." 

"  Charles,"  I  exclaimed,  in  real  alarm, 
"  what  mean  you  by  these  strange  words  ? 
y'ou  stand  in  my  way  ?  I  do  not  under 
stand  you ;  you  have  some  hidden  mean- 
ing!" 

"  Have  you,  then,  not  divined  that  I 
love  her?" 

"Ay." 

"  And  can  two  love  the  same,  and  both 
be  happy  ?  " 

"Why  not?  I  would  not  rob  you  of 
your  love.  True,  I  love  her  deeply,  de 
votedly,  I  swear  to  you  ;  and  I  know  you 
love  her  also  ;  but  then  our  love  is  different. 
You  love  her  as  a  brother — but  I,  as  some 
thing  more  than  brother." 

"I  see  you  are  mistaken,  Frank;  and 
to  show  you  how  much  I  sacrifice  to.  your 
happiness,  I  will  say,  once  for  all,  I  love 
her  as  deeply,  as  devotedly,  as  passion 
ately  as  yourself;  but  not  as  a  brother, 
my  friend  ;  0  no,  not  as  a  brother." 

"  Indeed*  Charles  !  "  I  cried,  with  a  ter 
rible  suspicion  of  something  I  dared  not  ex 
press  :  "  Indeed,  Charles  !'"  and  I  grasped 
his  arm,  and  sought  his  eye  with  mine  : 
"  Indeed,  Huntly  !  No  !  no  !  gracious 
heavens  !  you  cannot  mean  what  you  have 
said  !  Take  it  back,  I  beg  of  you,  and 
avow  you  love  her  as  a  brother,  and  noth 
ing  more — for  more  would  be  criminal." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  criminality  you  speak 
of,"  he  answered  coldly.  "Is  it  not 
enough  that  I  have  offered  to  sacrifice  my 
own  happiness,  without  being  charged  with 
•rime  ?*" 

"But  Charles,  my  friend,  consider! — 
you  have  no  right  to  an  attachment  warmer 
than  a  brother's." 

"Rigfit!"  echoed  Huntly,  turning  pale 
with  excitement :  "  Right,  say  you  !  By 
heavens  !  when  it  comes  to  that,  I  know 
not  why  my  right  to  love  her  is  not  as 
rood  as  yours." 

"Shall  I  tell  you?" 

"  Ay,  do  !    Quote  me  the  law  that  makes 


it  criminal  for  me  to  love  and  not  your 
self,"  answered  Charles,  bitterly. 

"  The  law  of  consanguinity  ?  " 

"  Heavens  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Does  not  the  same  blood  flow  in  the 
veins  of  both  of  you  ?  " 

"  Good  God  !  you  chill  my  blood  with 
horror  !  you  do  not  mean  this  ?  "  and  my 
friend  turned  deadly  pale,  reeled  like  on« 
intoxicated,  and  grasped  my  aim  for  sup 
port.  "  I  was  not  aware  of  this,  Frank." 

I  now  became  more  alarmed  than  ever. 
Something  had  assuredly  turned  the  brain 
of  my  friend,  and  he  was  now,  (how  I 
shuddered  as.  I  thought) — he  was  now  a 
maniac  ! 

"  Why,  Charley,"  I  said,  in  a  tone  as 
soothing  as  I  could  command,  "surely 
you  know  her  to  be  your  sister  ! " 

"  Sister!"  he  fairly  shrieked. 

"Ay,  sister,  Charley.  Is  not  Lilian 
your  sister?" 

"  Lilian!  "  he  cried,  with  a  start,  and  a 
rapid  change  of  countenance  that  terrified 
me.  "Lilian  ! — then  you  were  speaking 
of  my  sister  Lilian  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  !  who  else  ?  " 

Huntly  looked  at  me  a  moment  steadily, 
and  then  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit  ol 
laughter,  that  made  my  blood  run  cold. 

"  Great  Heaven  !  "  I  cried,  "  his  senses 
are  indeed  lost !  "  and  I  was  on  the  poinl 
of  hurrying  to  camp,  to  give  the  alann 
and  get  assistance,  when,  seizing  me  by 
the  arm  with  one  hand,  and  giving  me  a 
hearty  slap  on  the  shoulder  with  the  other, 
he  exclaimed  : 

"  Frank,  if  ever  there  were  two  fools, 
then  you  I  and  make  four." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  I  sighed,  and  my  eyes 
filled  with  tears  :  "  What  a  shock  it  will 
be  to  his  family  !  " 

"Why,  Frank,"  he  cried  again,  accom 
panying  his  words  with  another  slap,  "you 
are  dreaming,  man !— your  senses  are  wool 
gathering." 

"  Exactly,"  I  said ;  "he,  of  course  thinks 
me  insane,  poor  fellow  !  " 

"  Nonsense,  Frank.  It  is  all  a  mistake, 
my  dear  fellow,  and  a  laughable  one  truly, 
as  you  must  know.  You  were  speiking 
of  sister  Lilian  ;  while  I,  all  the  time,  was 
alluding  to  the  fair  unknown." 

"  What !  "  cried  I,  comprehending  all  at 
a  glance;  "then  it  is  no  insanity  witt 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST 


you — and  we  have  both  made  fools  of  our 
selves  indeed  ?  " 

"  Exactly  ;  so  give  me  your  hand  on  it, 
my  old  chum  !  " 

Instantly  my  hand  was  locked  in  that  of 
my  friend,  and  then  such  another  shout  of 
merriment  as  we  both  set  up,  at  the  ridicu 
lousness  of  the  whole  affair,  I  venture  to 
say  was  never  heard  in  that  part  of  the 
country  before  nor  since. 

"So,  then,"  resumed  I,  "the  secret  is 
out,  and  we  have  both  acknowledged  to 
being  deeply  in  love.  Really,  dear  Char- 
t-y.  I  feel  under  great  obligations  to  you 
for  that  meditated  sacrifice — more  especial- 
y,  as  the  lady  in  question  is  thousands  of 
miles  away,  is  entirely  unknown  to  us,  and 
will  probably  never  be  seen  again  by  either 
Charles  Huutly  or  Francis  Leighton." 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,  Frank  !  '  No  more  of 
that,  ? n'  thou  lovest  me/  "  returned  my 
friend,  good  humoredly.  "  I  admit  that  I 
have  acted  the  simpleton  ;  but,  at  the  same 
time  (and  he  gave  me  a  comical  look),  I 
feel  proud  to  say  I  have  had  most  excellent 
company — Eh  !  my  dear  fellow  ?  " 

"  I  acknowledge  the  corn." 

"  But  touching  my  sister,  Frank." 

"Well,  what  of  her?"  I  cried  quickly, 
while  I  felt  the  blood  rush  to  my  face  in  a 
warm  current. 

"  Did  you  not  act  hastily — too  hastily — 
in  that  matter,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  I  fear  I  did,  and  I  have  bitterly  repent 
ed  since.  But  I  loved  her  so,  Charley ; 
Knd  you  knew  my  passionate  nature  could 
not  brook  a  rival." 

"  A  rival,  Frank  !  I  never  knew  you  had 
a  rival." 

«•"  What !  not  know  the  elegant  Mr. 
VVharton?" 

"  Pah  !  you  did  not  take  him  for  a  rival, 
I  hope." 

"  Indeed  I  did.  Does  he  not  visit  your 
house  frequently?" 

"  Yes,  and  so  do  fifty  others  ;  but  I  as 
sure  you  dear  Lilian  will  not  marry  them 
all." 

'•  But — but — I  thought  Wharton — a — a 

"  A  fashionable  gallant.     So  he  is." 
"  No — a — a — special  suitor  to  your  sis- 
ttr's  hand,"  1  stammered,  concluding  the 
•entence  ray  friend  had  interrupted. 

"  Pshaw  !    Frank.     Why  Lilian  would 


not  look  at  him — other  than  to  treat  him 
respectfully,  as  she  would  any  visitor — 
much  less  marry  him." 

"  Then  you  think  she  does  not  lore 
him?" 

"  Love  him  ! "  echoed  Huntly,  with  a 
smile  of  contempt,  and  an  expressive  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  "No!  Lilian  Huntly 
loves  but  one." 

"  And  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  One  certain  hot-headed  youth,  ycleped 
Frank  Leighton." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this,  Charles  ?  "  and  1 
caught  the  hand  of  my  friend,  and  fastened 
my  eye  steadily  upon  his. 

"  I  will  stake  my  life  on  it ;  and  had  you 
been  possessed  of  your  usual  good  sense 
that  night  you  must  have  seen  it." 

I  released  the  hand  I  had  clasped  in 
mine,  and  staggered  back  as  if  struck  a 
violent  blow.  My  brain  grew  dizzy,  my 
hands  trembled,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
I  could  keep  myself  upon  my  feet.  In 
stantly  the  arm  of  my  friend  encircled  my 
waist,  and  he  said,  hurriedly  : 

"Good  heavens!  what  have  I  done! 
Frank,  Frank,  take  this  not  so  hard — it 
will  all  be  right  in  the  end.  Lilian  and 
you  were  made  for  each  other,  I  see  ;  and 
this  separation  will  only  serve  to  knit  more 
closely  the  tie  of  affection  between  you 
when  again  you  meet." 

I  replied  not ;  I  could  not ;  but  I  struck 
my  head  with  my  fist,  and  gave  vent  to  a 
groan  that  seemed  to  issue  from  my  very 
soul. 

"Is  it  there  ye  is,  your  honors?  "  said 
the  voice  of  Teddy,  at  this  moment. — 
"  Faith,  now,  I've  bin  lookin  for  yees  wid 
my  two  eyes  and  ears  this  long  while,  to  ax 
ye,  would  ye  have  your  breakfast  cooked, 
or  be  afther  takin  it  raw  ?  " 

"Cooked,  you  fool!"  cried  Huntly, 
angrily. 

"  Thin  all  I  have  to  say  is,  it's  waitin, 
your  honors,  and  done  beauthifully,  by  the 
chief  cook  and  buthler,  Teddy  O'Lagherty, 
barring  that  he's  no  cook  at  all,  at  all, 
worth  mintion,  and  divil  a  bit  o'  a  buthler 
is  in  him  now.  And  what's  more,  I'm  to 
till  ye  that  the  Misther  Trapphers  is  jist 
gitting  ready  to  lave  the  whereabouts,  and 
they  sez  be  ye  going  wid  them,  they'll  b« 
axing  yees  to  travel." 

"  Sure,  enough,"  said  Huntly,  looking 


36 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


down  toward  the  camp,  "they  are  prepa 
ring1  to  leave  in  earnest.  So  come,  Frank," 
and  taking  my  arm  in  his,  we  descended 
the  hill  together  in  silence. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

OUR  CAMP  RAISED  AND  JOURNEY  RESUMED 

A    HALT — COTTON'S    CHEEK — ORIGIN    OF 

THE     NAME ALARM PREPARATION      FOR 

DEFENCE CAMP,    ETC. 

BT  the  time  that  we  had  joined  the  trap 
pers,  the  sun  was  already  risen,  and  stream 
ing  his  golden  light  over  the  broad  prairie 
with  a  beautiful  effect.  Hastily  partaking 
of  our  breakfast,  watering  our  animals 
at  a  small  creek  which  ran  bubbling  round 
the  base  of  the  little  knoll  so  often  men 
tioned,  we  prepared  to  raise  our  camp,  as 
packing  up  to  leave  is  termed  by  the 
mountaineers.  Placing  our  saddles,  pos 
sibles,  etc.,  on  our  horses  and  mules,  we 
mounted  and  took  a  northern  course  over 
the  prairie.  • 

As  we  passed  along,  we  saw  a  few  deer 
away  in  the  distance,  and  occasionally 
caught  sight  of  a  buffalo,  while  animals  of 
various  kinds  and  sizes  appeared  here  and 
there,  sporting  in  the  glorious  sunbeams 
and  seeking  their  daily  fare,  both  single 
and  in  numbers.  However,  as  we  had 
plenty  of  "meat"  laid  in  for  the  present, 
we  did  not  trouble  them,  but  kept  quietly 
along  upon  our  course — Black  George 
taking  the  lead  as  pilot,  and  the  rest  of  us 
following  in  his  track,  Indian  file. 

A  little  past  noon  we  came  to  a  small 
creek  which  flows  into  the  Blue  Earth 
river,  or  "Big  Blue,"  as  I  heard  it  called 
by  the  mountain  men,  and  here  we  paused 
sixain  to  water  our  animals,  and  allow 
them  a  few  minutes  to  crop  the  luxuriant 
grass  beneath  their  feet. 

"  That's  time  enough,  boys,  I'm  think- 
in,"  said  Black  George;  "so  what's  the 
use  o'  hurryin  ?  Spect  we  wouldn't  live 
no  longer  for't  ;  and  jest  to  tell  the  fact, 
I'm  in  no  particular  drive  to  quit  this  warm 
sunshine,  for  the  clouds  and  snow  and  ice 
o'  the  mountains — Eh  !  Ned  ! — augh  !  " 

"  Don't  know's  the  mountain  '11  be  any 
better  for  our  waitin,"  grumbled  Ned ; 


"  and  as  long's  we've  got  to  ^o,  what's  tl'O 
use  o'  our  throwin  away  time  here  ?  " 

"Augh!"  grunted  the  old  trapper. 
"  You're  al'ays  in  a  haste,  boy,  and  some 
day  you'll  git  rubbed  out  in  a  haste,  01  I'm 
no  beaver.  Come,  what  say  you,  Torn  ? 
you  haint  opened  your  face  sence  you 
bolted  that  meat — leastwise  to  my  knowin." 

"  I  don't  care  a  chaw  which — stay  01 
go — suit  yourselves,"  answered  Daring 
Tom,  sententiously. 

"Well,  boys,"  rejoined  the  oid  moun 
taineer,  "  we'll  hold  our  wind  here  'bout 
a  quarter,  and  then  travel." 

Saying  which,  he  dismounted  his  mule, 
drew  his  pipe  from  a  little  holder  suspend 
ed  round  his  neck,  and  squatting  upon  the 
ground,  deliberately  filled  and  ignited  it, 
by  means  of  punk,  flint,  and  steel,  and 
commenced  puffing  away,  as  indifferent  to 
everything  or  person  around  him,  as  if 
he  had  been  paid  expressly  to  pass  his  lifo 
in  this  manner.  Fiery  Ned,  however,  waa 
not  pleased  ;  and  ripping  out  a  few  oaths, 
on  what  he  termed  the  "  d — d  laziness  of 
the  other,"  he  jerked  up  his  mules  and 
set  forward,  followed  by  Rash  Will  only — • 
Daring  Tom  and  ourselves  remaining 
with  Black  George.  The  last  mentioned 
puffed  away  quietly,  until  the  foremost 
party  had  disappeared,  when  taking  hia 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  blowing  out  a  large 
volume  of  smoke,  and  watching  it  as  il 
curled  round  and  round  on  its  ascent,  ere 
it  disappeared,  he  turned  to  me  with  a 
comical  look,  and  shrugging  his  shoulders 
and  winking  his  eye,  observed  : 

"  They'll  not  live  no  longer  for  it,  hoss, 
I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  they  will  ! "  Say 
ing  which,  he  drew  his  legs  a  little  more 
under  him,  and  resumed  his  pipe  with  the 
gravity  of  a  Dutchman. 

The  spot  where  we  were  now  halted 
was  one  of  rare  .beauty.  It  was  a  little 
valley,  nearly  surrounded  by  hills  in  the 
shape  of  a  horse-shoe,  along  the  base  of 
which,  like  a  silver  wire,  wound  the  little 
murmuring  rivulet,  its  waters  sparkling 
in  the  sunshine,  becoming  glassy  in  the 
shade,  and  mirroring  the  steeps  above  it 
as  it  gaily  took  its  way  to  unite  with  the 
larger  waters  of  the  Blue.  Above  us,  on 
three  sides,  rose  the  horse-shoe  ridge,  par 
tially  bare  with  frowning  rocks,  and  par 
tially  covered  with  a  dwarfish  growch  d/ 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


.39 


rarious  kinds  of  wood..  The  valley  or  bot 
tom  was  a  rich  alluvion,  carpeted  with 
fresh  sweet  grass — which  our  animals 
cropped  eagerly — and  with  various  kinds 
of  wild  flowers  ;  while  hundreds  of  gay- 
plumed  birds  were  hovering  over  our  heads, 
or  skimming  along  the  surface,  and  thus 
checkering  and  enlivening  the  scene  with 
their  presence,  and  filling  the  air  and  our 
ears  with  the  melody  of  their  voices.  The 
point  of  the  valley  not  belted  with  the  hills, 
looked  out  upon  a  prairie,  which  stretched 
away  to  the  west,  ani  south,  its  half-grown 
grass  waving  in  the  breeze  and  resembling 
che  light  ripples  of  some  beautiful  lake. 

"What  a  lovely  scene  !  "  .said  Huntly. 
turning  to  me,  as,  dismounted,  we,  both 

o 

stood  gazing  upon  it. 

"  x\.  little  Paradise  that  I  have  never 
seen  surpassed,"  was  my  answer. 

"  Yes,  but  everything  Beautiful  here 
abouts  gits  sp'iit  to  them  as  knows  it  a 
few,"  chimed  in  the  old  hunter,  blowing 
the  smoke  deliberately  from  his  mouth. 
"  Now,  I've  no  doubt  this  here  place  looks 
purty  to  you,  but  I've  seen  blood  run 
hereaways — a  ugh  !  " 

"  Indeed  ! "  I  exclaimed,  advancing  to 
the  old  trapper,  as  did  each  of  the  others, 
with  the  exception  of  Tom,  who,  having 
Sijuattecl  himself  some  little  distance  off 
and  lit  his  pipe,  seemed  wholly  absorbed 
with  thoughts  of  his  own.  "Then  there 
has  been  lighting  here  in  days  gone  by  ?" 
I  pursued. 

"  Well,  thar  has,  hoss,"  was  the  res 
ponse.  "  Ye  see  that  ar  creek,  don't  ye  ?  " 
pointing  to  it  with  the  stem  of  his  pipe. 

"Ay." 

"Well,  it  looks  purty  enough  to  one  as 
don't  know,  but  this  coon's  seen  them  wa 
ters  red  afore  now. 

"  Tell  us  the  tale,"  said  Huntly. 

••  Why  it's  long,  Bosson,  and  we  haint 
got  time  k)  throw  away — so  I'll  hev  to  let 
it  slide,  I'm  thinkin.  Howsomever,  I'll 
gin  ye  the  gist  on't,  and  I  spose  that'll  do 
us  well.  That  creek  you  see  yonder's  bin 
called  Cotton's  Creek  ever  sence  that  time, 
and  the  reason  ou't  is.  case  a  powerful 
good  chap  culled  Jim  Cotton,  or  "Snake- 
Eye,"  gnt  nibbed  out  lhar  bv  the  cussed 
Pawnees.  Me  and  him,  and  Jake  Strader, 
and  Sigh  Davis,  had  bin  down  to  St.  Lou- 
flT,  a^id  sold  our  oeavers  to  the  Nor-Wes- 


ters,*  (and  them  was  the  days  when  thcv 
fetched  sonaethin — five  dollar  a  plew,|  old 
or  youDg  uns,  instead  o'  a  dollar  a  pound 
— augh  !)  and  coming  out  to  Independence 
with  the  '  rocks  '  in  our  pockets,  we  got  on 
a  regular  spree,  and  spent  a  few—  but  not 
all — and  a  infernal  Greaser^  somehow  git 
tin  wind  on't,  and  findin  out  jest  which 
way  we's  a-goin,  put  out  ahead,  and  got 
some  five  or  six  Pawnees  to  jine  him,  and 
come  down  here  to  cache  §  for  us. 

"Well,  in  course  we  wrasn't  thinkin  o' 
nothin  dangerous,  case  our  bottles  warn't 
all  emptied,  and  we  felt  h^ppy  enough. 
Jest  down  here  we  stopped  to  water  and 
rest  like  we're  doin  now,  when  all  at  once 
that  ar  bush  you  see  yonder  near  the  bank, 
let  out  seven  bullets  right  among  us.  Jim 
Cotton  was  throwed  cold,  and  never  kick 
ed  artcr,  poor  feller  !  Jake  Strader  got 
arm  broke,  Sigh  Davis  a  ball  through  his 
shoulder,  and  me  one  right  into  my  calf. 
Then  thinkin  they  throwed  the  majority, 
the  oudacious  skunks  come  tearin  and  yel- 
lin  like  sin,  old,  Greaser  on  the  lead.  A 
part  broke  for  us,  and  the  rest  for  our  an 
imals,  so  as  ef  they  didn't  '  count  a  ccup  ' 
they  could  put  us  'afoot.' 

"  '  Heyars  hair,  and  a  chance  for  dry 
powder — gin  'em  h —  ! '  sez  I ;  and  I  ups 
with  old  Sweetlove,  and  throwed  old  Grea 
ser  cold,  right  in  his  tracks — so  cold  ho 
never  knowed  what  made  meat  of  him, 
Greaser  didn't. 

"  Well,  jest  as  mine  went  I  heerd  two 
more  pops,  and  blow  me  for  a  liar  ef  two 

more  of  the rascals  didn't  drap  purty  ! 

How  they'd  done  it — specially  Jake  Stra 
der  with  his  broken  arm — got  me  all  of  a 
heap  ;  but  done  it  they  had,  sartin  as  win- 
kin  ;  and  thar  the  varmints  lay,  a-kickin 
like  darnation.  Now  thar  was  only  four 
left  and  grabbin  Jim  Cotton's  rifle,  afore 
they  knowed  what  I  was  about,  I  laid  an 
other  han'some.  Now  we  was  even,  and 
I  hollered  to  the  skunks  to  come  on  and 
show  fair  fight,  and  I'd  eyther  lick  the 
three  or  gin  'em  my  scalp.  But  they 
hadn't  no  notion  o'  tryinon't,  the  cowards  I 
but  turned  and  '  split '  as  ef  the  arth  wad 
agoin  to  swaller  'em. 

*  Hudson  Bay  Company  is  sometimes  so  call 
ed  by  the  trappers. 

t  Huie — a  whole  sfcin. 

£  Spaniard  or  Mexican.     6  Hide— from  cachn 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER       OR, 


"  '  Ilurraw  for  us  beavers  ! '  I  sez  ;  '  and 
U:t  us  go  hair- raisin  ; '  and  with  that  I  takes 
my  butcher  and  walks  into  the  varmints  ; 
and  them  as  wasn't  dead  I  carved  ;  and 
itrter  I'd  done,  me  and  Sigh  —  for  Jake 
Couldn't  work  well  —  we  hove  the  meat 
into  the  water,  christening  it  Cotton's 
Creek  ;  then  we  dug  a  hole  nii>'h  'bout 

O  O 

whar  you're  standing,  put  in  poor  Jim, 
kivered  him  over,  and  jest  as  we  was,  all 
wounded,  we  mounted  our  critters  and  put 

"  And  do  ye  think  there  is,  maybe,  iny 
of  the  likes  of  thim  rid  divils  about  here 
now.,  sure,  Misther  Trapper  George  ?  " 
inquired  Teddy,  with  an  uneasy  look. 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,  boss ;  for  we're 
agoin  right  toward  'em." 

"  Faith,  thin,"  said  Teddy,  turning 
slightly  pale,  "  maybe  it's  the  wrong  road 
ye're  going  now  ?  " 

"  0,  ye  needn't  fear  I'll  miss  the  track," 
answered  the  old  hunter,  who  put  a  literal 
construction  on  the  Irishman's  words.  "  I 
know  the  ground  as  well  as  you  know  your 
own  daddy." 

"  Agh!  and  well  ye  may, Misther  George, 
and  have  little  to  brag  on  the  whiles,  jist," 
rejoined  the  other  quickly.  "  But  what  I 
maan  is,  it's  maybe  if  we  take  anither  way, 
we'll  not  rin  among  the  divils,  and  git 
made  maat  of  as  ye  calls  it,  now." 

"  Why,  Teddy,"  said  I,  "  you  are  not 
becoming  alarmed  at  this  stage  of  the 
journey  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Och,  no  !  it's  not  alar-r-med  meself 
is  gittin  at  all,  at  all,  barring  a  little  fright 

O  '  o  O 

maybe  I  has  for  your  honor's  safety." 

"  0,  never  mind  me,  Teddy,"  I  replied. 
"  I  assure  you  1  am  doing  very  weli,  and 
of  course  prepared  myself  to  run  all  haz 
ards  before  I  came  here." 

"  Well,"  observed  Huntly,  "  I  think  we 
had  better  set  forward  again,  and  select 
*ur  camp  early." 

•'  That's  a  fact,"  cried  Black  George, 
springing  to  his  feet  with  the  agility  of  a 
youth  of  twenty  :  "You  is  right,  boy  — 
right.  Come,  Tom,  we's  a-goin  to  put;" 
and  he  turned  toward  his  saddle  mule. 
"  Hey  !  what !  "  he  exclaimed  suddenly, 
with  a  stress  upon  the  words  that  instantly 
brought  us  all  round  him,  eager  to  learn 
the  cause. 

But  nothing  could  we  discover,  save  that 


j  the  old  mule  alluded  to  was  snuffing  the 
1  air,  with  her  ears  bent  forward  and  point 
ing  steadily  in  one  direction.  Tivo  or 
three  words,  however,  from  the  old  trap 
per,  sufficed  to  enlighten  and  alarm  us  at 
the  same  time. 

"  Injins,  boys — rifles  ready— Suke's  no 
liar."  Then  turning  to  Tom,  who  had 
also  started  to  his  feet  on  hearing  the  *irst 
j  exclamation  of  Black  George,  he  added : 
"  Split  for  cover,  Tom,  and  hunt  for 
'  sign.'  " 

Scarcely  was  the  sentence  out  of  the  old 
man's  mouth,  ere  Tom  was  out  of  sight; 
for  understanding  all  at  a  glance,  he  had 
turned  at  the  first  word,  and,  leaping  across 
tin1  stream,  disappeared  in  a  thicket  on  the 
outer  side. 

1  felt  queer,  I  must  own,  for  it  was  (he 
first  time  that  danger  had  become  appa 
rent  to  me ;  and  this  being  concealed,  I 
knew  not  what  to  expect,  and  of  course 
magnified  it  considerably.  Beside.0,,  the 
story  I  had  just  heard,  together  with  the 
quick  and  decisive  movements  of  the  trap 
pers,  led  me  to  anticipate  a  sudden  onset 
from  a  large  body  of  Indians.  Determin 
ed  to  sell  my  life  dearly,  I  grasped  my  rifle 
in  one  hand,  and  loosened  my  pistols  and 
knife  with  the  other.  I  cast  a  quick  glance 
upon  Huntly,  and  saw  that  he  was  also 
prepared  for  the  worst.  His  features  had 
paled  a  little,  his  brow  was  slightly  wrin 
kled,  and  his  lips  compressed,  showing  a 
stern  resolve.  But  the  Irishman,  in  spite 
of  my  fears,  amused  me.  Instead  of  bring 
ing  up  his  rifle  ready  for  an  aim,  Teddy 
had  griped  it  midway,  and  was  whirling  it 
over  his  head  as  he  would  a  shelaleh,  the 
while  raising  first  one  foot  and  then  the 
other  in  great  excitement,  as  if  treading 
on  live  coals,  his  face  flushed,  his  eyes 
fixed  in  one  direction,  his  nostrils  expand 
ed,  and  his  breast  heaving  with  hard 
breathing. 

"  Quick  !  "  exclaimed  Black  George  ; 
"  fetch  round  the  animals  and  make  a 
breastwork  to  cover." 

Instantly  Huntly  and  1  sprang  to  our 
horses,  and  the  old  trapper  to  his  mules, 
while  the  Irishman,  heeding  nothing  that 
was  said,  still  continued  his  laborious 
gyrations.  In  less  than  a  minute  the  ani 
mals  were  arranged  in  our  front,  and  we 
were  repriming  our  fire-weapons,  "and 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


41 


preparing  to  repel  the  attack  manfully, 
should  one  be  made.  A  minute  of  silence 
succeeded,  when  Black  George  ''.ried  out 
to  Teddy : 

"  D'ye  want  to  be  made  mea  on,  you 
t-hunderin  fool !  that  you  stand  thar  like  a 
monkey  target  ?  " 

But  the  Hibernian  either  did  not  hear, 
or,  hearing,  did  not  heed. 

"  Teddy,"  I  shouted. 

"  Here,  your  honor  !  "  answered  Teddy, 
running  up  and  crawling  under  my  horse, 
he  having  been  standing  outside  of  our 
animal  breast-work. 

"  What  were  you  doing  out  there, 
Teddy?" 

"  Troth,  I  was  gitting  my  hand  in,  jist." 

"  Yes,  and  you  might  hev  got  a  bullet 
in  your  meat-bag,"  rejoined  the  old  trap 
per,  dryly. 

"  Ah  f "  said  Teddy,  dolefully,  "  if  ye'll 
belave  me  now,  it's  that  same  doings  that 
worries  meself  the  most  in  this  kind  of 
fighting.  Barring  the  shooting  and  the 
danger  attinding  it,  it's  rne  mother's  son 
us  wouldn't  mind  fighting  at  all,  at  all." 

"  There  are  a  great  many  such  heroes 
m  the  world,"  I  rejoined,  with  a  smile  ; 
"  and  most  men  are  brave  when  there  is 
no  danger.  But  I'll  exonerate  you  from 
being  a  coward,  Teddy,  for  you  once  nobly 
saved  my  life ;  but  at  the  same  time  I 
think  I  shall  have  to  give  you  a  few  les 
sons  when  this  affair  is  over,  so  that  you 
will  be  able  to  act  becomingly,  under  like 
circumstances,  and  know  the  proper  use 
of  your  riile." 

"Hist!"  said  Black  George  at  this 
moment. 

All  became  a  dead  silence.  Presently 
the  faint  cawing  of  a  distant  crow  was 
heard  in  the  woods  nearest  us. 

"  Injin  sign — but  no  sudden  dash,"  ob- 
Sf.rved  the  old  trapper  again. 

"  Indeed  !  "  I  exclaimed,  in  surprise  ; 
"  And  pray  how  came  you  by  your  infor 
mation  ?  " 

"  Jest  as  easy  as  you  ken  look  at  pot 
hooks  and  tell  what  thef  sez,"  answered 
the  mountaineer.  "  You  know  how  to 
read  a  heap  in  bocks  ;  I  know  how  to  read 
the  sign  o'  rater ;  and  both  is  good  in 
lhar  places.  You  heerd  that  crow,  I'm 
thinkiu  ?  " 

"  I  did." 


"  Well  that  was  Darin  Tom  speakin  to 
me,  and  tellin  me  what  I  told  you." 

Ere  I  had  time  to  express  my  surprise, 
the  person  in  question  made  his  appear 
ance,  leaping  nimbly  across  the  littl* 
creek,  and  gliding  up  to  us  as  silently  as 
an  Indian. 

"What's  the  sign?"  asked  Black 
George. 

"  Pawnees,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Howd'  they  number.and  which  way?" 

"  Twenty  o:ld,  and  toward  the  sothe." 

"  Arter  hair  ?  " 

"  I  reckon." 

"  Be  apt  to  trouble  us  ?  " 

"  Think  they  passed  with  their  eyes 
shut." 

"  Playin  possum  maybe.  How  lontj 
gone?" 

"  Less  nor  a  quarter." 

"  Then  Suke  must  have  smelt  'em. 
She's  a  knowin  one,  is  Suke,  and  don't 
fool  her  time.  Spect  we'd  better  put  out 
and  look  for  camp  ?  " 

"  I  reckon." 

"  Augh  ! " 

Although  this  kind  of  dialogue  was  new 

O  O 

to  me,  I  nevertheless  was  able  to  under 
stand  that  a  body  of  Pawnees  had  passed 
us,  and  was  either  not  aware  of  our  prox 
imity,  or  did  not  care  to  make  an  attack 
upon  us  in  broad  daylight.  As  the  moun 
taineers  concluded,  they  instantly  mounted 
their  mules  and  set  forward ;  and  spring 
ing  upon  our  horses,  we  kept  them  com 
pany.  As  we  left  the  little  cove  —  if  1 
may  so  term  it — by  way  of  the  prairie, 
we  were  surprised  to  meet  Fiery  Ned  and 
Rash  Will  on  their  return  to  join  us. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Black  George,  interroga 
tively. 

"Injins,"  returned  Rash  Will. 

"  Ahead  or  ahind  ?  " 

"  Moccasins  to  the  sothe." 

"We've  seed  'em — augh  !" 

No  more  was  said  ;  but  wheeling  their 
animals,  the  two  mountaineers  silently 
joined  the  cavallada,  and  we  all  moved 
forward  together. 

The  country  over  which  we  were  now 
passing,  was  exceeding  beautiful  and  pic 
turesque.  Alternately  well  timbered  bot 
tom  —  steep,  craggy, barren  blulfs  —  open, 
rolling  prairies  —  met  our  view;  while 
sparkling  little  streams,  winding  around  iu 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


every  direction,  appeared  like  silver  threads 
fastening  the  whole  together. 

On  our  way  hither,  we  h;id  passed 
through  Independence,  one  of  the  most 
important  {joints  in  Missouri  for  obtaining 
an  uu;ii.,  ;in  1  taking  much  the  same  route 
as  that  now  followed  by  Oregon  emigrants, 
had  crossed  the  Caw  or  Kansns  river  a  day 
or  two  previous  to  our  camp  on  the  prairie, 
of  which  1  have  given  a  descriplion.  Al 
though  this,  as  t  then  said,  was  our  first 
camp  on  the  prairie,  I  wish  the  reader  to 
distinctly  understand  it  was  not  our  first 
encampment  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
civilization.  But  as  I  did  not  care  to 
trouble  him  with  a  tedious  journey,  which 
produced  no  important  incident,  I  jumped 
over  our  progress  to  the  time  when  I  felt 
our  adventures  had  really  begun.  I  say 
this  in  explanation,  lest  having  traveled 
the  route  himself,  he  might  be  puzzled  to 
understand  how,  in  so  short  a  time  from 
the  raising  of  our  camp,  we  could  have 
become  so  far  advanced. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  June,  and  the 
sun  poured  down  his  heat  with  great  in 
tensity,  so  that  our  animals  perspired  free 
ly,  and  seemed  far  more  inclined  to  linger 
in  the  shade  when  we  passed  a  timbered 
spot,  than  to  hurry  forward  in  the  open 
sunshine.  Nevertheless  we  managed,  be 
fore  the  sun  sunk  to  rest,  to  put  a  good 
thirty  miles  between  us  and  our  camp  of 
the  previous  evening.  Reaching  at  last  a 
smooth,  pleasant  spot  —  belted  with  hills, 
not  unlike  the  one  of  our  noonday  halt, 
through  which  likewise  murmured  and 
sparkled  a  little  rivulet — we  paused  and 
decided  to  camp  at  once.  In  a  few 
minutes  our  animals  were  hoppled,  and 
regaling  themselves  with  great  gusto  upon 
the  sweet,  green  blades  which  here  grew 
exuberantly. 

."  Somebody'll  hev  to  stand  sentinel  to 
night,"  observed  Black  George,  as  we 
seated  ourselves  around  the  tire,  which 
had  been  kindled  for  the  purpose  of  toast 
ing  our  meat,  and  keeping  off  the  wild 
beasts.  "  Who's  a-goin  to  claim  the  privi- 
"ege?" 

No  one  answered  ;  but  the  other  trap 
pers  all  looked  toward  Huntly  and  myself, 
which  I  was  not  slow  to  understand. 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  to 
night  ?  "  I  inquired 


"  Thar's  never  a  timj  in  this  part  of  (ha 
world  when  thar  isn't,  stranger,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  But  do  you  apprehend  an  attack  from 
the  savages  to-night  ?  " 

"  Maybe,  and  maybe  not  ;  but  yon 
know  what  happ'd  to-day,  and  thar's  yign 
about,  clear  as  mud." 

"  Well,  if  you  think  I  will  answer  the 
purpose,  I  am  ready  to  volunteer  my 
services."  , 

The  old  trapper  mused  a  moment,  shook 
his  head,  and  replied  : 

"  I'm  feared  not.  I'll  keep  guard  my 
self;  for  you  be  young,  and  mightn't 
know  a  Injin  from  a  tree  ;  and  it's  like 
thar'll  be  powder  burnt  afore  morn  in." 

Although  these  words  portended  danger, 
yet  so  fatigued  was  I  from  my  day's  travel, 
that  in  less  than  two  hours  from  the  time 
they  were  spoken,  in  common  with  the 
rest — Black  George  excepted,  who,  pipe  in 
mouth,  and  rifle  in  hand,  remained  squatted 
before  the  fire — I  was  sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A  PAINFUL  DRK-AK ATTACK  FROM  THE  PAW 
NEES ALARM TREEING COWARDICE  O* 

THE     WESTERN     INDIANS COLD-BLOODED 

MUTILATION COOLNESS     AND    VALOR    OJ 

THE  MOUNTAINEERS. 

I  was  once  rrfore  in  my  native  land 
Time  had  flown  rapidly,  years  had  rolled 
onward,  thousands  on  thousands  of  milea 
had  been  gone  over,  and  now  I  stood  in 
the  city  of  my  nativity.  Strange  and 
powerful  emotions  stirred  me.  I  was  weed 
ing  my  way  through  the  old  and  well- 
remembered  streets  to  the  home  of  one 
who  had  been  daily  and  nightly  in  my 
thoughts  during  my  long  absence.  I  al 
ready  pictured  myself  entering  her  abode, 
and  the  start  and  thrill  of  joyful  surprise 
on  her  beholding  me  again.  At  length  I 
readied  the  well  known  mansion.  There 
it  stood,  just  as  I  had  left  it.  There  were 
the  same  steps  I  had  ascended,  and  the 
bell  I  had  rung  on  the  night  when  I  haJ 
so  abruptly  and  cruelly  torn  myself  from 
her  sweet  presence.  I  felt  a  nervous  ixe- 
mor  run  through  my  whole  system.  2 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE     FAR     WEST 


could  scarcely  stand.  My  heart  seemed 
to  shrink  into  nothing,  my  blood  began  to 
curdle  in  mv  veins,  and  my  quaking  limbs 
refused  to  d*o  my  bidding.  There  I  stood, 
shaking  like  an  aspen  leaf,  afraid  to  go 
forward,  unwilling  to  retreat.  At  length, 
by  a  threat  effort,  I  grew  more  calm.  With- 
a  fresh  determination  not  to  be  conquered 
by  myself,  I  rushed  up  the  steps  and  rang 
the  bell.  A  servant  appeared.  But  he 
was.notth;  one  I  had  expected  to  behold  ; 
not  the  one  that  had  answered  my  former 
summons  ;  his  face  was  new  to  me.  This 
was  a  change,  it  is  true,  and  produced 
some  very  unpleasant  feelings  ;  but  this 
was  a  common  one,  and  nothing  to  alarm 
me. 

"  Is  HISS  Huntly  at  home  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Miss  Huntly  don't  live  here,  sir." 

"What!"  cried  I,  gasping  for  breath, 
"not  live  here?" 

"  No,  sir  !  this  is  Mr.  Wharton's  house." 

"  Wharton  !  Yes,  well,  he — he — is — 
married  ?  " 

••  Yes,  sir,  he's  married." 

"  Who  did  he  marry  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  sir." 

"  Was  it  a— Lilian  Huntly  ?" 

"  No  indeed,  I  guess  it  wasn't.  He 
wouldn't  look  at  her,  I  know." 

"Not  look  at  her,  villain!  why  not?" 
and,  excited  beyond  reason,  I  seized  my 
informant  beyond  the  collar.  "  Why 
would  he  not  look  at  her,  wretch  ?"  I  re 
peated,  hoarsely.  "  Tell  me  quickly,  or 
I  will  dash  your  brains  out  at  my  feet  !  " 

"  Ca-cause  she's  poor,"  was  the  trem 
bling  reply. 

"  Poor  !  "  I  shouted. 

'•  Ye-yes,  sir." 

"  And  where  is  she  to  be  found  ?  " 

"  Just  round  that  alley  yonder — first 
door  on  the  left." 

I  followed  with  my  eyes  the  direction 
indicated  by  the  finger  of  my  informant, 
and  the  next  moment  found  the  door 
slammed  in  my  face.  But  for  this  I  cared 
not.  Lilian  wa^  in  trouble.  With  one 
bound  I  cleared  the  steps,  and  darting 
down  the  street,  turned  the  coiner  of  the 
alley,  and  stood  before  a  miserable  wooden 
house. 

"  Great  God  !  "  I  cried,  mentally,  "the 
home  of  Lilian,  dear  Lilian  !  "  and  the 
r»ext  moment,  without  pausing  to  knock,  I 


burst  open  the  door  and  entered  a  misera 
ble  apartment  scantily  furnished. 

The  first  object  that  fixed  my  attention 
was  sweet  Lilian  herself;  but  oh  !  how 
altered  !  how  pale  !  how  wo-begone  her 
look  !  Her  dress  and  appearance  bespoke 
poverty  and  suffering,  and  chilled  my 
blood. 

"  Lilian  !  "  I  cried,  rushing  toward  her, 
with  outstretched  arms. 

She  rose  —  stared  at  me  —  a  frightful 
expression  swept  over  her  pale,  grief-worn, 
but  still  lovely  features —  she  struggled  for 
ward  —  gasped  —  and,  uttering  my  name, 
with  a  terrible  shriek,  sunk  senseless  into 
my  arms. 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  burst  rude 
ly  open,  and  Wharton,  with  eyes  gleaming 
tire,  pistol  in  hand,  rushed  into  the  apart 
ment.  Ere  I  had  time  for  thought,  the 
pistol  flashed,  the  report  rang  in  my  ears, 
and  the  ball  buried  itself  in  the  head  of 
my  beloved  Lilian.  With  a  shriek  of  hor 
ror,  I  dropped  her  lifeless  body,  and  — 
awoke. 

I  looked  up,  and  saw  Huntly  bending 
over  me,  and  heard  a  confused  noise,  the 
discharge  of  firearms,  and  rising  above  all 
the  din,  the  yells  of  savages. 

"  Awake,  Frank  !  — up  for  God's  sake  ! 
we  are  attacked  !  "  cried  Huntly. 

Instantly  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  complete 
ly  bewildered. 

"  Tree,  tree,  or  you're  dead  nigger ! " 
shouted  a  voice  behind  me. 

I  turned  around,  but  was  still  too  much 
confused  to  understand  what  was  meant. 
The  next  moment  Huntly  seized  me  by  the 
arm,  and  hurriedly  dragging  me  to  a  neigh- 

*  oo      o  o 

boring  tree,  thrust  me  behind  it  on  the  side 
farthest  from  the  fire.  I  had  cause  to  be 
thankful  for  this  ;  for  as  I  moved  from  the 
spot  where  I  had  stood,  a  ball  whizzed  past 
me,  which,  had  it  been  sped  a  second  soon 
er,  had  doubiless  proved  fatal. 

I  now  learned,  from  a  few  hurried  words 
spoken  by  my  friend,  that  the  Indians — 
supposed  to  be  Pawnees,  and,  in  fact,  the 
same  party  which  had  alarmed  us  at  Cot 
ton's  Creek — had  made  a  sudden  dash  at 
cur  animals,  which  were  picketed  within 
pistol-shot  of  the  tire,  and,  with  loud  yells, 
had  discharged  their  pieces  and  arrows  into 
our  camp,  fortunately  without  doing  us  any 
injury.  In  a  moment  every  one  was  on 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


his  feet,  with  the  exception  of  myself,  who, 
ns  the  reader  knows,  was  lost  in  the  mazes 
of  a  troublesome  dream,  and  had  actually 
converted  the  screeches  of  the  savages  into 
cries  from  Lilian,  and  the  report  of  fire 
arms  into  the  fatal  shot  from  the  pistol  of 
one  I  had  looked  upon  as  a  rival.  Each 
of  th«  trappers  had  hurriedly  sought  his 
tree,  while  the  Irishman,  though  a  good 
deal  bewildered,  had  had  presence  of  mind 
and  good  sense  enough  to  imitate  their  ex- 

O  O 

ample.  -  Huntly  of  course  could  not  leave 
me  to  perish,  and  had  paused  to  rouse  me 
in  the  manner  shown. 

By  this  time  all  had  become  silent  as 
the  grave.  Our  camp  fire  was  still  burn 
ing  brightly,  and  bv  its  lio-ht  we  could  trace 

OO^*'  *       ^  O 

a  large  circle  round  it ;  but  not  an  object, 
save  our  animals — some  of  which,  particu 
larly  the  mules,  snuffed  and  snorted,  and 
appeared  very  restless — was  seen  to  stir. 
One  would  suppose,  to  have  gazed  around 
him  in  that  waftn,  still  night,  that  not  a 
creature  more  dangerous  than  the  fire-fly 
and  musquito  was  at  hand,  to  disturb  the 
now  seemingly  deep  and  solemn  solitude 
of  the  place.  In  this  way  some  two  or 
three  minutes  passed,  during  which  you 
could  have  heard  the  fall  of  a  leaf,  when 
suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken  by  the 
report  of  a  rifle  within  twenty  feet  of  me, 
and  was  succeeded  by  a  yell  of  agony  some 
thirty  paces  distant  in  another  direction, 
while  an  Indian,  whom  I  had  not  before 
observed,  staggered  forward,  and  fell  with 
in  the  circle  lighted  by  the  fire. 

Now  it  was,  as  if  the  whole  wilderness 
were  full  of  demons,  that  the  most  terrific 
yells  resounded  on  all  sides,  and  some  fif 
teen  or  twenty  savages,  naked  all  but  the 
breech-clout,  hideously  painted,  were  seen 
dodinn<>-  among  the  scattering  trees,  making 

O       o  o          t  O  ^      '  O 

toward  us,  and  discharging  their  muskets 

O        O 

and  bows  at  random.  A  bullet  striking 
the  stock  of  my  rifle  just  above  where 
my  hand  grasped  it,  splintering  it,  and 
sending  some  of  the  pieces  into  my  face, 
maddened  me  not  a  little  ;  and  I  vowed 
revenge  upon  the  first  savage  I  could  lay 
eyes  on. 

"Give  the  skunks  h — 1!"  shouted  a 
roice  ;  and  ere  the  words  were  fairly  ut 
tered,  some  three  or  four  rifles  belched 
forth  tncir  deadly  contents,  and  three  more 
savages  rolled  howling  in  the  dust. 


At  this  moment  I  discovered  a  powerfuj 
Indian  making  toward  me,  not  ten  feet 
distant,  his  basilisk  eyes  fairly  shining  like 
two  coals  of  tire ;  and  raising  my  rifle 
quick  as  lightning  to  my  face,  without 
pausing  even  to  sight  it,  I  lodged-  the  con 
tents  in  his  body.  He  staggered  back, 
partly  turned  to  fly,  reeled,  and  then  with 
a  howl  of  rage  fell  to  the  earth  a  corpse. 

The  Indians  of  the  Far  West,  of  the 
present  day,  are  not  the  Indians  of  former 
times,  whose  wigwams  once  rose  where 
now  stand  our  cities  and  hamlets,  and 
whose  daring  in  war,  when  led  by  a  Phil 
lip,  a  Pontiac,  or  a  Tecumseh,  could  only 
be  excelled  by  their  cunning  and  ferocity. 
No  !  far  from  it.  The  present  tribes  have 
degenerated  wonderfully.  They  axe,  take 
them  as  a  whole,  a  dirty,  cowardly,  despi 
cable  set,  without  one  noble  trait,  and  not 
worth  the  powder  it  takes  to  kill  them. 
They  will  attack  you,  it  is  true  ;  but  then 
they  must  treble  you  in  numbers ;  and  if 
they  fail  in  killing  or  completely  overpow 
ering  you  at  the  onset,  ten  to  one  but  they 
will  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  and  leave  you 
master  of  the  field. 

Of  such  dastardly  wretches  was  com 
posed  the  party  which  had  assailed  us. 
Although  vastly  superior  to  us  in  num 
bers,  they  now  seemed  completely  thun 
derstruck  at  the  result  of  an  attack,  which, 
doubtless,  they  had  counted  on  as  certain 
victory.  Five  of  their  party  had  already 
bitten  the  dust,  and  yet  not  one  of  us 
had  been  touched.  Notwithstanding  this, 
even  had  they  possessed  one  half  the  cour 
age  and  daring  of  their  eastern  forefathers, 
they  might  to  all  appearance  have  annihi 
lated  us.  But  no  !  they  dared  not  longer 
fight  for  victory.  Like  frightened  pol 
troons,  as  they  were,  they  wavered  for  a 
|  moment,  and  then,  as  their  last  hope,  made 
!a  "break"  for  our  animals,  with  the  in 
tention  of  seizing  and  making  oft"  with  them, 
and  thus  leaving  us  to  foot  our  long  jour 
ney.  But  even  in  this  they  failed,  through 
their  own  cowardice  ;  foi*  comprehending 
their  intent,  the  trappers,  with  yells  as  sar- 
age  as  their  own,  sprang  from  their  trees, 
and  rushing  toward  them,  they  instantly 
abandoned  their  design,  and  again  most 
ingloriously  fled. 

Two  of  our  party,  however,  Fiery  Ned 
and  Rash  Will,  were  far  from  being  satisfied 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


45 


trith  even  this  victory.  Maddened  with 
rage,  and  a  desire  of  farther  revenge,  they 
actually  leaped  onward  after  the  fugitives, 
and  quickly  disappt  ired  from  our  view. 
For  a  lime  we  could  hear  them  shouting 
and  yelling ;  but  gradually  the  sounds  grew 
fainter  and  more  faint,  until  at  last  nothing 
whatever  could  be  heard. 

"  The  infernal  skunks  ! "  said  Black 
George,  stepping  out  from  behind  his  tree, 
and  giving  vent  to  a  quiet,  inward  laugh, 
peculiar  to  men  of  his  profession.  "  Reck 
on  they'll  stay  put  a  few,  and  not  trouble 
as  agin  in  a  hurry  ;  "  and  again  he  laughed 
as  before.  "  But  what  fools  Ned  and  Will 
is  ?  They're  never  content  with  a  fair 
•whip,  but  must  al'ays  be  tryin  to  do  a  heap 
more  ;  and  some  day  they'll  git  thar  hair 
raised,  and  go  under  with  a  vengeance,  or 
I'm  no  sinner.  But  I  say,  Tom  ?  " 

'  Well,  boss  ?  " 

'  Didn't  we  throw  'em  purty  ?  " 

'  Well  we  did,  old  coon." 

'  I'll  be  dog-gone  if  we  didn't.     Come, 


let 


s  lift  thar  hair — auo-h  ! 


With  this,  both  trappers  drew  their 
knives,  and  taking  from  a  little  bag  at 
tached  to  their  garments  a  small  sand 
stone,  commenced  sharpening  them  Avith 
as  much  indifference  as  if  they  were  about 
to  slice  a  buffalo,  instead  of  dipping  them 
in  the  blood  of  human  beings.  When 
done,  their  whetstones  were  carefully  re 
placed,  and  then  turning  to  me,  who  with 
Huntly  and  Teddy  had  meantime  gathered 
around  the  two,  the  old  mountaineer  said  : 

"  Boy,  you've  done  somethin  for  the 
fust  time,  and  needn't  be  ashamed  on't. 
Throwed  him  cold  in  his  tracks,  I'll  be 
dog-gone  ef  you  didn't !  "  and  he  nodded 
toward  the  Indian  I  had  slain.  "Well, 
he's  your  meat ;  and  so  at  him  and  raise 
his  top-knot  afore  he  gits  cold." 

I  shuddered  at  the  bare  thought  of  such 
barbarity,  and  involuntarily  shrunk  back. 

"  0,  then  you're  a  leetle  squeamish,  hey? 
Well,  I've  heern  tell  o'  sich  things  afore  : 
but  it  won't  last  long,  Bosson,  take  my  word 
for't.  Ef  you  don't  raise  hair  afore  you're 
a  thousand  year  older,  jest  call  me  a  liar 
and  stop  off'  my  bacca." 

"  No  !  "  I  replied,  firmly :  "  I  could  never 
be  brought  to  degrade  myself  by  a  custom 
wtech  originated  with,  and,  if  it' must  still 
be  practiced,  should  eve"  belong  to,  the 


savage.  I  may  kill  an  Indian  in  my 
defence,  but  I  cannot  mutilate  him  when 
dead..  I  was  bred  in  a  very  different 
school." 

"Bread,    be    !"    returned    Black 

George,  not  comprehending  any  meaning. 
"  This  here  ain't  bread — it's  meat ;  and 
as  to  skule,  as  you  calls  it,  why  that  ar 
belongs  to  the  setlements  ;  and  haint  got 
nothin  to  do  out  hereaways  in  the  woods. 
Eh!  Tom?" 

"  Well  it  haint." 

"  No,  I'll  be  rumfuzzled  ef  it  hev  !  And 
so,  stranger,  ef  you  want  to  show  you're 
smart  a  heap,  you'll  jest  lift  that  ar  skunk's 
hair  and  say  no  more  about  it.  Eh  ! 
Tom?" 

"  Fact !— augh  !  " 

"  No  !  "  I  rejoined  in  a  decisive  tone,  "  I 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  you 
choose  to  scalp  the  Indian,  that  is  no  busi 
ness  of  mine  ;  but  I  will  not  so  degrade 
myself." 

"  Well,  ef  your  mind's  made  up,  in 
course  it's  no  use  o'  talkin  ;  and  so,  Tom, 
let's  begin  to  slice." 

At  this  moment  we  heard  the  report  of 
a  distant  rifle,  quickly  followed  by  another. 

"  Them  boys  is  eyther  throwed  now,  or 
else  some  Injins  have  got  rubbed  out,"  ob 
served  Black  George  indifferently,  "Come, 
Tom,  let's  lift." 

Saying  this,  the  old  trapper  and  his 
companion  set  about  their  bloody  work, 
The  first  Indian  they  came  to  was  not 
dead ;  and  running  his  knife  into  his  heart, 
with  a  barbarous  coolness  that  made  me 
shudder,  Black  George  observed  : 

"  That's  your  meat,  Tom." 

He  then  pas.sed  on,  leaving  the  latter  to 
finish  the  bloody  task.  Bending  over  the 
now  dead  savage,  and  seizing  him  by  the 
hair  of  the  head — which,  instead  of  a  long 
lock  or  cue  as  worn  by  some  tribes,  was 
short  and  ridged,  like  the  comb  of  a  fowl. 
Daring  Tom  ran  his  knife  round  the  skull 
bone  with  a  scientific  flourish,  tore  off  the 
scalp,  and  knocking  it  on  the  ground  to 
free  it  as  much  as  possible  from  gouts  of 
blood,  coolly  attached  it  to  his  girdle,  and 
proceeded  to  the  next. 

"  What  a  horrid  custom  !  "  I  exclaimed, 
turning  to  Huntly. 

"It  is,  truly,"  he  replied.  "But  then 
you  know,  Frank,  it  is  one  thai  belongs  to 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR, 


UK-  Indian  and  mountaineer  ;  and  as  we 
have  come  among  tliem  voluntarily,  we 
have  no  right  of  course  to  quarrel  with 
them  fur  it." 

"  Be  jabers  !  "  cried  Teddy,  "  is  it  mur- 
llu  I'in^-  the  Injins  twice  they  is,  now,  your 
honors  ?  " 

"  Li  would  seem  so,"  replied  Huntly, 
with  a  smile. 

'  FMI.II,  and  your  honor,  and  it's  meself 
as  thinks  they  naad  it,  sure,  the  blathering' 
spalpeens,  to  be  coming-  round  us  pace-able 
citizens  wiJ  their  nonsense,  and  entiling  our 
troats.  Och  !•  it'  I'd  a  knowed  how  to  lit 
oft  this  bothersome  article,  (holding  up 
His  rifle)  I'd  a  killed  a  dozen  o'  the  baastly 
crathurs,  I  would." 

"  Why,  Teddy,"  I  rejoined,  "  I  thought 
you  knew  how  to  shoot  a  rifle?  at  least 
you  to  LI  us  so." 

Teddy  scratched  his  head,  and  put  on  a 
Very  comical  look,  as  he  replied : 

"  Yes,  but  ye  sae,  your  honor,  it  was  an 
Irish  rifle  I  was  spaking  of,  barring  that 

l  O  O 

It  wasn't  made  in  Ireland.at  all,  at  all,  but 
in  France,  jist." 

"  But  I  thought  they  did  not  allow  you 
to  use  rifles  in  Ireland,  Teddy  ?  " 

"  No  more  they  don't ;  but  thin,  ye  sae, 
it  isn't  sich  murJiering  thing-s  as  this  now 
they  uses." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"Why,  I  most  forgit  meself,"  returned 
the  Irishman,  with  a  perplexed  look,  again 
scratching  his  head.  "  Och  !  now  I  come 
to  think  on't,  I  belave  it  shot  wid  a  long 
stick,  and  that  it  wasn't  meself  as  shot  it 
at  all,  at  all.  but  me  mother's  father  that 
knowed  sich  things — pace  to  his  ashes." 

"Teddy,"  In-joined,  assuming  a  serious 
tone  which  I  was  very  far  from  feeling, 
"  it  is  evident  that  this  is  the  first  rifle  you 
ever  laid  hands  on,  and  that  the  story  you 
told  us  on  the  boat,  about  your  exploits  in 
shooting',  was  without  the  least  foundation 
whatever." 

"  Ah  !  troth,  it's  like  it  may  be,"  an 
swered  the  Hibernian,  penitently,  with  a 
sigh.  "  It's  like  it  may  be,  your  honor  ;  for 
tlivil  a  thing  else  can  me  make  out  of  it. 
But  ye  sae,  ye  questioned  me  close  now, 
and  I's  afeared  that  didn't  I  have  the 
qualifications  ye  axed,  I'd  not  be  naaded  ; 
and  as  I  saan  ye  was  raal  gintlemen,  and 
DO  blathers  of  spalpeens,  it  was  going  wfti 


yoursel's  Teddy  O'Lagherty  was  afthn 
doing,  if  he  told  a  story,  jist — for  which 
howly  Mary  forgive  me!" 

"  Well,  well,  Teddy,  never  mind,"  1  said, 
smiling.  "I  will  show  you  the  USP  of  the 
rifle  the  first  convenient  opportunity  ;  and 
so  let  what  is  past  be  forgotten." 

"Ah!"  cried  the  grateful  Irishman, 
doffing  his  beaver  and  making  a  low  bow 
"  I  knowed  ye  was  gintlemen,  yoiir  honors, 
every  inch  of  yees,  and  wouldn  t  be  hard 
upon  a  poor  forlorner  like  meself." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Huntly,  "listen!** 
and  at  the  moment  we  heard  the  gloomy 
howl  of  a  pack  of  wolves. 

"  They  already  smell  the  feast  prepared 
for  them,  "  I  rejoined. 

"  Well,  Frank,  let  us  return  to  our  camp 
fire  ;  for  I  see  the  trappers  have  nearly 
completed  their  unenviable  task." 

Acting  upon  his  suggestion,  we  set  for 
ward,  and  gaining  the  fire,  were  soon 
joined  by  Black  George  and  Daring  Tom, 
who  came  up  with  five  bloody  scalps  dan- 
p-lincr  at  their  girdles — bringing-  with  them 

•  n      *"          p 

also  some  two  or  three  rifles,  a  fresh  supply 
of  powder  and  ball,  and  various  other  trifles 
which  they  had  taken  from  the  dead  Indians, 

"  I  think  we  can  count  a  coup  this  heat,'* 
observed  the  old  mountaineer,  with  hia 
peculiar,  quiet  lau^'h  :  "  Eh  !  Tom  ?" 

"We  can't  do  nothin  else,"  was  the 
satisfactory  response. 

"  I  say,  Tom,  them  wolves  smell  blood." 

"  Well  they  does." 

"  Thar's  plenty  o'  meat  for  'em,  any  how; 
and  ef  they'll  jest  foller  us,  and  them 
skunks  of  Pawnees  want  to  try  this  here 
over  a<nn,  we'll  make  'em  fat.  Eh  !  Tom  ?" 

"  Will  so-o." 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  dog--gone  ef  we  don't ! 
But  I  say,  Tom,  ain't  it  most  time  for  Rash 
and  Fire  to  be  in  ?  " 

"  I  reckon." 

"  Hope  they  didn't  git  throwed.  It  'ud 
be  a  pity  to  hev  them  go  under  jest  now — 
and  would  spile  all  our  sport." 

"  Well  it  would,  hoss." 

"  Hark  !  thar  goes  a  whistle  !  That'* 
them,  or  I'm  a  nigger." 

•  "'Taint  nobody  else,"  responded  Dar 
ing  Tom. 

""  All  right.     Augh  !     Let's  smoke." 

Squatting  themselves  upon  the  ground, 
cross-leg'g'ed,  the  trappers  tilled  their  pipea, 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


and  commenced  puffing  away  as  though 
not] ling  had  happened  to  disturb  their 
equanimity.  Such  perfect  recklessness  of 
life,  such  indifference  to  danger,  I  had 
never  seen  displayed  before  ;  and  though 
I  abhorred  some  of  their  customs,  I  could 
not  but  admire  their  coolness  and  valor. 
Their  sense  of  hearing  I  soon  discovered 
was  far  more  acute  than  mine  ;  for  when 
the  old  trapper  spoke  of  the  whistle  of  his 
comrades,  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me, 
detect  a  distant  sound  proceeding  from 
human  lips.  But  that  he  was  right,  was 
soon  evident ;  for  in  less  than  five  minutes 
after.  Fiery  Ned  and  Rash  Will  made  their 
appearance,  and  quietly  stealing  up  to  the 
aircle,  threw  themselves  upon  the  ground 
without  a  remark.  At  the  belt  of  each 
hun1-'1  a  fresh  scalp,  showing  that  two  more 

O  i  O 

of  the  enemy  had  been  their  victims. 

For  some  time  the  two  smoked  away  in 
silence,  and  then  suggesting  to  the  others 
the  propriety  of  joining  them,  all  four 
were  soon  in  full  blast.  After  a  little,  they 
began  to  -talk  over  their  exploits  ;  and 
amusing  themselves  in  this  way  for  an 
hour  or  more,  one  after  another  straight- 

> 

ened  himself  out  on  the  earth,  an  example 
which  Teddy  soon  imitated,  and  in  h've 
minutes  all  were  lost  in  sleep. 

As  for  Huntly  and  myself,  slumber  had 
fled  our  eyelids  ;  and  stirring  the  fire,  we 

•/  o 

seated  ourselves  at  a  little  distance  and 
talked  till  daylight — I  narrating  my  singu 
lar  dream,  and  both  commercing  upon  it. 
All  night  long  we  heard  the  howling  of  the 
ravenous  wolves,  as  they  tore  the  flesh 
from  the  bones  of  our  dead  foes,  and  oc 
casionally  caught  a  gleam  of  their  fiery 
eye- balls,  when  they  ventured  nearer  than 
asxial  to  our  camp. 


CHAPTER     X. 

JOURNEY     RESUMED UNPLEASANT    FEELINGS 

UAMf1 RESTLESSNESS A     HALF    FORM 
ED     HESOLTTION THE     LONELY    WATCH 

TERRIFIC      THUNDERSTORM PAINFUL     SE 
PARATION JOYFUL    MEETING LOSS    OF 

ANIMALS SECOND   CAMP. 

AT  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  we  re 
sumed  our  journey.  As  we  moved  along, 
I  be.l'cld  the  bones  of  two  of  oxir  late  foes, 


basking  white  and  ghastly  in  the  sunlight, 
their  clean-licked,  shiny  skulls,  hollow 
sockets,  and  "Tinning  teeth  and  iaws,  fair- 

.  O  J 

ly  making  my  flesh  to  creep  And  the 
more  so,  perhaps,  as  I  took  into  considera 
tion  that  only  a  few  hours  before,  these 
same  bones  belonged  to  animated  human 
beings  ;  and  that  a  mere  turn  of  the  whee* 
of  fate  might  have  placed  me  in  their  po 
sition,  they  in  mine.  Death  is  a  solemn 
thing  to  contemplate  at  any  time,  and  I 
was  now  in  a  mood  to  feel  its  terrors  in 
more  than  their  wonted  force.  My  dream, 
although  I  tried  to  dispel  it  as  only  a  dream, 
still  made  a  deep  impression  upon  my 
i  mind  ;  and  this,  together  with  what  oc 
curred  afterward,  and  the  remembrance 
of  the  conversation  I  had  held  with  my 
friend  the  morning  previous,  touching  Lil 
ian,  all  tended  to  depress  my  spirits  and 
make  me  melancholy. 

At  length,  to  rouse  me  from  my  sinking 
stupor,  I  turned  my  eyes  upon  Huntly  ;  but 
perceiving  that  he  too  was  deep  in  thought, 
I  did  not  disturb  his  revery  ;  while  my  own 
mind,  settling  back  ihto  itself,  if  I  may  be 
permitted  the  expression,  wandered  far 
away  to  the  past,  recalled  a  thousand  old 
scenes,  and  then  leaped  forward  to  the  fu 
ture,  and  became  perplexed  in  conjectures 
regarding  my  final  fate. 

About  noon  we  reached  the  banks  of  the 
Blue  river,  and,  as  on  the  preceding  day, 
halted  a  few  minutes  to  rest  and  refresh 
ourselves  and  animals.  Here  I  noticed 
trees  of  oak,  ash,  walnut  and  hickory,  with 
occasionally  one  of  cottonwood  and  willow. 
The  bottoms  of  this  stream  are  often  wide 
and  fertile,  on  which  the  wild  pea  vine 
grows  in  abundance.  The  pea  itself  is 
somewhat  smaller  than  that  grown  in  the 
settlements,  and  can  be  used;  as  vegetable, 
its  flavor  being  agreeable. 

As  our  meat  was  now  running  slx*'^ 
Daring  Tom  observed  that  he  would  '  .nake 
somethin  come  ;"  and  setting  forth  with  his 
rifle,  soon  returned  heavily  laden  with  wild 
turkeys.  Hastily  dressing,  we  threw  them 
into  our  possible  sacks,  and  again  set  for 
ward. 

Traveling  some  fifteen  miles  through 
woodland  and  over  prairie,  we  encamped 
at  last  in  a  beautiful  little  grove  of  ash  and 
hickory,  on  the  margin  of  a  creek  that  flow 
ed  into  the  Blue.  The  day  had  been 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


excessively  hot  and  sultry,and  all  of  us  were 
much  fatigued.  Starting  a  fire  as  usual 
we  <  ooked  some  of  our  turkey  meat,  and 
found  it  very  delicious.  As  no  Indian  sign 
had  been  discovered  through  the  day,  it 
was  i  bought  unnecessary  to  set  a  guard, 
and  accordingly  we  stretched  ourselves 
upon  the  earth  around  the  fire,  and  in  a 
few  minutes,  with  the  exception  of  myself, 
all  were  sound  asleep. 

I  'ould  not  rest.  I  tried  to,  but  in  vain. 
The  air  was  tilled  with  musquitoes,  and 
variciis  other  insects,  attracted  hither  by 
the  fie-light,  and  they  annoyed  me  exceed 
ingly.  This  was  not  all.  My  mind,  as  in 
fact  it  had  been  throughout  the  day,  was 
sorely  depressed.  A  thousand  thoughts, 
that  I  vainly  strove  to  banish,  obtruded 
themselves  upon  me.  In  spite  of  myself, 
I  thought  of  my  dream.  Pshaw  !  why 
should  that  trouble  me  ?  It  could  not  be 
true,  I  knew  ;  and  was  only  caused  by  the 
previous  remarks  of  Huntly,  my  excited 
feelings,  and  surrounding  circumstances. 
Still  it  came  up  in  my  mind,  as  startlingly 
as  I  had  dreamed  it ;  and,  in  spite  of  my 
scoffings,  with  every  appearance  of  reality. 
I  was  not  naturally  superstitious,  and  did 
not  believe  in  dreams — but  this  one  haunt 
ed  me  as  a  foreboding  of  evil  to  her  Hoved; 
and  as  I  lay  and  meditated,  I  half  formed 
the  resolution  to  set  out  in  the  morning 
upon  my  return,  already  sick  of  my  under 
taking. 

It  is  one  thing  to  read  of  adventures  in 
others,  and  another  to  experience  them 
ourself ;  and  this  I  felt,  oh  !  how  keenly  ! 
To  strengthen  my  resolution,  1  pictured  the 
home  of  my  parents,  the  sadness  which  I 
knew  must  be  preying  upon  them  on  ac 
count  of  my  absence,  and  the  flash  of  joy 
that  would  light  their  faces  and  warm  their 
hearts  on  beholding  their  only  son  once 
more  seated  at  their  fireside,  never  to  de 
part  again  while  he  or  they  were  blessed 
with  life.  I  thought  over  all  this,  and 
grew  stronger  in  my  new  resolve  ;  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  whimsical  fear  of  ridi 
cule —  the  idle  jest  of  some  coxcomb  fool, 
for  whose  opinion  or  regard  in  any  other 
way  I  cared  not  a  straw  —  it  is  more 
than  probable  this  narrative  had  not  been 
written. 

What  a  powerful  engine  is  ridicule  !  It 
&  the  battermg-raui  of  the  mind,  and  will 


often  destroy  by  a  single  blow  the  mighti 
est  fabric  of  reason.  It  is  used  by  fools 
and  men  whose  minds  are  too  imbecile  ib 
cope  with  the  edifice  of  thought  which 
towers  above  their  limited  grasp  ;  and  y<-t 
the  very  architect  of  such  construction  fears 
it,  as  does  the  poor  red-man  the  annihila 
ting  artillery  of  the  pale-face. 

I  lay  and  thought ;  and  the  more  I 
thought,  the  more  restless  I  became.  J 
rolled  to  and  fro  in  an  agony  of  mind  that 
at  last  became  intolerable,  and  I  arose. 
Stealing  quietly  from  the  sleeping  circle,  I 
proceeded  to  the  creek,  and  having  moist 
ened  my  parched  and  feverish  lips,  and 
bathed  my  heated  temples  and  brow,  ] 
took  my  way  thence  to  a  little  bluff  on  the 
opposite  side,  whence  I  could  overlook  the 
valley  for  a  considerable  extent. 

Seating  myself  upon  a  rock,  I  gazed 
around.  Below  was  our  camp  fire,  bright 
ly  burning,  beside  which  I  could  tracw, 
with  a  shadowy  indistinctness,  the  outlines 
ot  the  sleeper's  dark  forms.  There  th«.y 
lay,  all  unconscious  to  the  outer  world, 
perhaps  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  some  de 
lightful  dream.  How  I  envied  them  their 
sleep  i  Beyond  them,  by  the  same  light, 
I  could  faintly  perceive  our  animals — hop 
pled,  but  not  picketed,  the  latter  being 
thought  unnecessary — quietly  grazing. 

It  was  a  warm,  still,  starlight  night. 
Above  me  the  heavens  were  brilliantly 
studded  with  myriads  of  shining  orlw 
whose  light  fell  softly  and  sweetly  upon 
the  sleeping  earth.  Here,  not  a  scild 
floated  in  the  clear  atmosphere  ;  but  in  tl*e 
west  I  could  perceive  huge  black  clouds, 
lifting  their  ill-shaped  heads  above  the  hor 
izon,  darting  forth  the  red  bolts  of  heaven, 
while  a  far-off  rumbling  sound  came  jarr 
ingly  upon  my  ear. 

Fixing  my  gaze  at  last  in  this  direction, 
I  sat  and  watched  the  rapid  progress  of  an 
approaching  storm.  On  it  came  like  a 
mighty  squadron,  a  few  fleecy  clouds  as 
banners  thrown  out  in  advance,  behind 
which  flashed  and  thundered  its  dread 
artillery,  making  the  very  earth  tremble 
beneath  the  sound. 

From  youth  up,  the  rapid  play  of  light 
ning  had  strongly  affected  my  nervous  sys 
tem,  and  made  me  a  coward  ;  and  now- 
lonely,  sad  and  gloomy — I  was  in  a  proper 
condition  to  feel  its  effects  more  sensibly 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


49 


than  ever.  Half  an  hour  past,  and  the 
rolling  clouds  had  darkened  the  western 
heavens,  while  the  almost  incessant  flashes 
of  fire  seemed  to  set  the  earth  in  a  blaze, 
and  as  often  vanishing,  left  it  shrouded  in 
a  darkness  almost  impenetrable. 

Dismal  as  was  the  scene,  I  sat  with  my 
eyes  rivetted  upon  it,  while  a  painful  sense 
of  awe  made  my  limbs  feel  weak  and  my 
blood  move  sluggishly  through  my  veins, 
or  rush  over  me  with  flashes  of  feverish 
heat.  Several  times  I  arose  with  the  in 
tention  of  returning  to  camp,  but  as  often 
resumed  my  former  position,  as  if  enchain 
ed  to  the  spot  by  some  powerful  magic 
spell. 

On  came  the  storm  with  startling  velo 
city,  and  presently  I  could  see  the  tops  of 
distant  trees  bending  to  the  blast — the  rain 
falling  in  broad,  white  sheets,  as  if  about 
to  deluge  ^he  earth — and  hear  the  truly 
dismal  roaring  of  the  rushing  winds.  I 
would  have  returned  to  my  companions 
now,  but  our  camp  afforded  no  protection, 
and  I  fancied  myself  as  safe  where  I  was. 
At  last  it  broke  upon  me  in  all  its  force  ; 
ar»d  such  a  storm  I  never  witnessed  before, 
and  hope  never  to  again.  I  feel  myself  in 
competent  to  describe  it.  The  rain  fell  in 
torrents  ;  the  wind  blew  a  perfect  hurri 
cane  ;  and  tall,  old  trees,  which  had  per 
haps  stood  for  centuries,  were  broken  and 
uprooted  ;  while  others,  together  with  sur 
rounding  rocks,  were  shattered  by  the  fiery 
bolts,  whose  crashing  reports  fairly  deaf 
ened  me.  How  I  maintained  my  position 
— why  I  was  not  hurled  headlong  down 
the  cliff — is  still  a  mystery  to  myself.  Oc 
casionally  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  com 
panions  moving  about  below,  evidently 
trying  to  secure  their  powder  from  the 
stomi  ;  while  Huntly  was  running  to  and 
fro  in  search  of  his  friend,  and,  to  all  ap 
pearance,  surprised,  alarmed  and  distress 
ed.  Our  animals  too  had  become  fright 
ened,  ind,  rearing  and  plunging,  they  soon 
broke  loose  of  their  tethers,  and  dashed 
madly  over  the  plain  in  every  direction.  I 
wouid  have  joined  my  companions  now, 
but  this  had  become  impossible  ;  for  the 
rain  had  already  swelled  the  little  creek 
j  between  me  and  them  into  a  mighty  stream, 
|  that  rolled  its  dark,  angry  waters  with  fury 
!  below  me,  and  added  its  sullen  roar  to  the 
bowlings  of  the  storm.  I  shouted,  but  my 


'  voice  was  lost  even  to  myself  in  the  might 
ier  ones  of  the  furious  elements. 

Two  hours — two  long,  never-to-be-for 
gotten  hours — did  the  storm  rage  thus  in 
fury  ;  and  in  those  two  hours  me  thought  I 
lived  a  lifetime.  Then  to  my  joy  it  began 
to  abate  ;  and  in  half  an  hour  more  I  again 
beheld  the  twinkling  stars  through  rents 
in  the  driving  clouds  ;  while  the  flashing 
lightning  and  the  roaring  thunder  gradu 
ally  becoming  less  and  less  distinct  to  eye 
and  ear,  told  me  the  devastating  storm 
was  fast  speeding  on  toward  the  east 

I  now  descended  to  the  creek  to  join  my 
companions,  but  finding  it  too  much  swol 
len  to  attempt  a  passage  with  safety,  I 
again  ascended  the  cliff,  and  shouted  to 
them  to  assure  them  of  my  safety.  At 
first  I  could  not  make  them  hear ;  but  after 
repeated  trials,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
receiving  an  answering  shout  from  Huntly, 
who  immediately  set  off  in  the  direction 
whence  he  supposed  my  voice  proceeded. 
After  a  minute's  search,  during  which  we 
both  called  to  each  other  continually,  Hunt 
ly,  was  enabled  to  make  out  my  locality — 
but  the  creek  prevented  our  meeting  dur 
ing  the  night. 

At  day-break  I  discovered  him  and 
Teddy  standing  on  the  opposite  side  ;  and 
as  the  flood  had  a  little  subsided,  I  plunged 
in  and  swam  across — not,  however,  with 
out  much  difficulty  and  danger,  nor  until 
the  rushing  waters  had  borne  me  some 
forty  cr  fifty  yards  down  the  stream.  No 
sooner  was  I  safe  on  the  bank,  than  Huntly 
threw  his  arms  around  my  neck  and  wept 
like  a  child. 

"  Thank  God !  Frank,  my  friend,  "  he 
exclaimed,  "  that  I  am  able  to  clasp  you 
once  again  !  Oh  !  if  you  could  but  know 
my  feelings  of  last  night !  I  thought  you 
were  lost — lost  to  me  forever  !  "  and  again 
he  was  forced  to  dash  the  tears  from  his 
eyes.  "But  tell  me,  Frank — how  came 
you  there  ?  " 

I  proceeded  to  detail  every  particular. 

"A  horrible  night  to  you,  too,  Frank, " 
said  Huntly,  in  reply.  "  But  'hereafter, 
my  friend,  you  must  not  steal  away  from 
me  in  this  way.  If  you  have  trouble*, 
share  them  with  me." 

Teddy  was  greatly  rejoiced  to  see  m« 
also  ;  and  he  got  me  by  the  hand,  and  by 
the  leg,  and  capered  around  me  like 


50 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR 


delighted  child — at  the  same  time  uttering 
Carious  phrases  in  his  peculiar  style,  which, 
in  spife  of  all  that  had  happened,  did  not 
fail  to  amuse  and  sometimes  make  me  laugh 
aloud. 

I  found  the  trappers  surly  and  grumbling 
at  what  they  considered  their  ill-luck — be 
ing  for  the  most  part  in  the  loss  of  a  few 
pounds  of  powder,  and  their  mules — all  of 
which  had  escaped,  as  well  as  our  horses. 

"  Augh  !  "  grunted  Black'  George  as  I 
came  up.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  boy.  Thought 
vou'd  gone  under.  It  was  a  screecher  of 
a  night,  wasn't  it?  Lost  heaps  of  powder, 

and  all  the  critters  gone  to  the  . 

Augh !  " 

My  powder  had  fortunately  been  so 
packed  that  nearly  all  was  safe ;  and  as  I 
had  a  great  store  on  hand,  I  gave  each  of 
the  mountaineers  a  pound,  which  served 
to  put  them  in  a  better  humor. 

We  now  separated  and  set  off  in  differ 
ent  directions  to  hunt  our  animals,  with  the 
understanding  that  this  should  be  our  ren 
dezvous.  We  had  a  wearisome  time  of  it, 
and  it  was  late  in  the  day  before  we  all  got 
together  again.  All,  however,  had  been 
recovered  ;  and  mounting,  we  set  forward 
once  more  rather  briskly,  and  encamped 
some  ten  miles  distant. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


OUR     COURSE    ALONG    THE    PLATTE KILLING 

AND    DRESSING  A  BUFFALO THEIR    PATHS 

THE  PKAJRIE-DOG THEIR  TOWNS,  AP 
PEARANCE,  HABITS,  FOOD,  ETC. THE  SOL 
ITARY  TOWER- —CHIMNEY  BOCK SCOTT'S 

BLUFFS ORIGIN     OF     VHE    NAME FORT 

LARAMIE ARRIVAL  AT ITS  APPEARANCE, 

INMATES,  ETC. CURIOSITY. 

THE  next  morning  we  set  forward  again, 
and  keeping  a  northwesterly  course,  mostly 
over  a  rolling  prairie,  encamped  on  the 
second  night  on  the  banks  of  the  Nebras 
ka  or  Platte  river.  This  river  is  very  shal 
low,  and  flows  over  a  sandy  bed.  We 
found  the  bottom  at  this  point  some  three 
or  four  miles  wide,  devoid  of  a  tree,  and 
covered  with  excellent  grass,  besprinkled 
with  a  salinous  substance,  which  caused 
our  animals  to  devour  it  greedily. 

Setting  our  faces  westward,  ve  now  fol 


lowed  the  course  of  the  Platte  for  sevei^l 
days,  without  a  single  incident  occurring 
worth   being  recorded.     The  Platte   bot 
toms  we   found  to  vary  from  two  to  four 
miles  in  breadth,  and  in  some  places  ouj 
animals  fared  slimly.      On  the  fourth  da} 
Fiery  Ned  shot  a  fat  buffalo,  which   was 
the  first  I  had   ever  seen  close  at  hand. 
This  animal    dies  very  hard,  even  when 
mortally  wounded  ;  and  an  individual  un- 
acquainted  with    its    nature  —  or,   as    th«  ' 
mountaineers  would  term  him,  a  "  greeu 
horn" — though  never  so  good  a  marks- I 
man,  would  assuredly  fail,  using  the  hunt-  ' 
ers'  phrase,  "  to  throw  him  in  his  tracks." 
One  would  suppose  that  a  shot  about  the 
head   or  central  part  of  the  body  would  I 
prove  fatal  —  but  nothing  is  more  errone 
ous.     To  kill  a  bull,  the  ball  must  either  ] 
divide  his  spine,  or  enter  his  body  behind  j 
the  shoulder,  a  few  inches  ab<^e  the  bris-  ] 
ket — this    being   the    only   point   through 
which  his  heart  and   lungs  are  accessible,  i 
And  even  here,  the  vital  part  of  all  vitality, 
with   a  ball  directly  through   his  heart,  I 
was  informed  by  one  of  the  hunters  that 
he  had  known  an  old  bull  run  half  a  mile 
before  falling. 

The  buffalo  killed  was  a  fat  cow ;  and  j 
turning  her  upon  her  back,  the  trappers 
proceeded  to  dress  her  in  the  real  moun 
tain  style.  Parting  tne  skin  from  head  to 
tail  with  a  sharp  knife,  directly  across  the 
belly,  they  peeled  down  the  hide  on  eithei 
side,  and  then  taking  from  her  the  "  hump 
rib,"  "tenderloin,"  "fleece,"  "tongue," 
and  "boudins,"  they  left  the  remainder, 
with  the  exception  of  the  skin,  which  was 
thrown  across  one  of  the  mules,  to  the 
vigilant  care  of  the  wolves.  The  "bou- 
din,"  a  portion  of  the  entrails,  is  consider 
ed  by  the  mountaineers  the  titbit  of  all. 
Slightly  browned  over  a  fire,  it  is  swallowed, 
yard  after  yard,  without  being  separated, 
and,  I  may  add,  without  resulting  in  the 
least  inconvenience  to  the  gormand. 

Through  this  section  of  country  I  ob 
served  innumerable  buffalo  paths,  running 
from  the  bluffs  to  the  river,  and  crossing 
each  other  in  every  direction.  These  paths 
present  a  striking  appearance  to  one  unused 
to  the  sight,  being  more  than  a  foot  in 
width,  some  three  or  four  inches  in  depth, 
and  as  smooth  and  even  as  if  cut  artificially. 

But   to   Huntly  and   myself-    the  incwt 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


amusing  and  interesting  sights  of  all  we 
saw  on  the  route,  were  the  towns  of  the 
prairie-dog,  which  are  to  be  found  at  dif 
ferent  intervals  along  the  whole  course  of 
the  sandy  Platte,  and  through  several  of 
which  we  passed.  The  first  one  we  came 
to,  so  astonished  and  interested  us,  that 
Iluntly,  Teddy  and  myself  dismounted  to 
take  a  closer  view,  while  the  trappers,  being 
of  course  familiar  with  such  things,  steadi 
ly  pursued  their  way. 

The  prairie-dog  is  above  the  size  of  a 
large  gray  "nuirrel,  somewhat  longer  than 
a  Guinea-pig,  of  a  brownish  or  sandy  hue, 
with  a  head-  somewhat  resembling  a  bull 
dog.  Being  of  a  social  disposition,  they 
collect  too-eiher  in  lary-e  bodies,  and  build 

• 

their  towns  on  a  gravelly  plain,  some  of 
them  being  miles  in  extent,  and  with  a 
population  equalling  the  largest  cities  of 
df  America,  or  even  Europe.  Their  earth 
en  houses,  which  are  from  two  to  three 
feet  in  hight,  are  made  in  the  form  of  a 
cone.  They  are  entered  by  a  hole  in  the 
top  or  apex,  which  descends  vertically 
some  three  feet  or  more,  and  then  takes  an 
oblique  course  and  connects  with  others  in 
ev;ry  direction.  Their  streets  are  laid 
out  with  something  approaching  regularity, 
and  they  evidently  have  a  sort  of  police, 
and  laws  to  govern  them,  not  unlike  those 
of  superior  and  more  enlightened  beings. 
In  some  of  the  towns,  a  house  larger  than 
ordinary  occupies  a  central  position,  which 
is  tenanted  by  a  sleek,  fat  dog,  supposed  to 
be  the  presiding  functionary  of  the  place, 
whose  sole  employment  appears  to  be  in 
sunning  himself  outside  his  domicil,  and 
noting  with  patriarchal  gravity  the  doings 
of  his  inferiors. 

The  town  which  myself  and  companions 
halted  to  examine,  was  one  of  the  larger 
class,  and  covered  an  area,  to  the  best  of 
my  judgment,  of  at  least  live  hundred 
acres.  On  our  approach,  a  certain  portion 
of  the  little  fellows  ran  to'  the  mouth  of 
their  holes,  and  squatting  down  commenc 
ed  a  shrill  barking,  not  unlike  that  made 
by  a  toy-dog — whereupon  the  pups  and 
smaller  sized  animals  betook  themselves 
with  the  utmost  despatch  to  their  burrows. 
A  nearer  approach  drove  the  more  daring 
under  cover,  whence  they  took  the  liberty 
of  peeping  out  to  examine  us,  and  occa 
sionally  of  uttering  a  shrill  bark,  as  a  gen 


tle  hint  that  our  company  was  anything  but 
agreeable. 

The  food  of  these  interesting  little  fel 
lows  consists,  for  the  most  part,  of  prairia 
grass  and  roots.  They  live  a  life  of  con 
stant  alarm — being  watched  and  pounced 
upon  continually  by  the  wolf,  the  hawk,  the 
eagle,  &c.  They  are  very  hospitable  to 
such  animals  as  choose  to  come  and  live 
peaceably  among  them — and  the  screech 
owl  and  rattlesnake  are  their  constant 
guests  ;  and  it  is  not  unusual,  I  was  told, 
to  find  all  three  burrowed  together  in  one 
hole.  They  are  sometimes  eaten  by  the 
Indian  and  mountaineer. 

Spending  an  hour  or  more  in  examining 
the  town,  we  remounted  our  horses  and 
soon  overtook  the  trappers,  Teddy  observ 
ing  as  we  quitted  the  village  : 

"  Faith,  your  honors,  but  thim  is'  queer 
bir-r-ds  now,  isn't  they  ?  Och  !  be  me 
mother's  hair !  it's  like  they've  bin  down 
to  St.  Louey  and  got  the  notion  in  their 
heads  and  think  they  can  baat  the  city, 
the  spalpeens  !  I'd  like  'em  to  go  and 
sae  Dublin,  now — maybe  that  'ud  aston 
ish  'em  a  wee  bit,  and  give  'em  some 
new  idees  respicting  public  idifices,  jist. 
Ochone  !  Ireland's  the  place  to  laach 
'em — the  baastly  serpints  of  bir-r-ds  that 
they  is." 

The  first  natural  object  of  curiosity  L be 
held  after  crossing  the  South  Fork  of  the 
Platte,  was  the  Solitary  Tower,  opposite 
which  we  encamped  on  the  margin  of  a 
small  stream  called  Little  Creek.  This 
tower,  composed  of  sand  and  clay,  resem 
bles  a  stone  edifice,  and  being  some  seven 
or  eight  hundred  feet  in  hight,  can  be  seen 
at  a  distance  of  fifteen  or  twenty  miles. 
To  the  distant  beholder  it  presents  the 
appearance  of  some  mighty  structure  of 
feudal  days  ;  but  a  near  view  dispels  th« 
illusion,  arid  the  spectator  sees  before  him 
only  a  rough,  unseemly,  but  stupendous  pile 
— thus  verifying  the  words  of  the  poet,  that 

"Distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view." 

I  was  informed  by  Black  George,  that  this 
tower  could  be  ascended,  though  at  some 
risk  to  the  adventurer;  and  that  he  and 
another  trapper  had  made  the  trial  some 
years  before,  and  spent  one  cold'winter'a 
night  in  one  of  its  damp  crevices — escap 
ing  by  this  means  a  party  of  hostile  savages 


THE    PRAlKiE     FLOWER;    OR, 


on  his  trail.  I  did  not  attempt  the  ascent 
myself. 

The  following  day,  before  noon,  we 
readied  Chimney  Rock,  another  natural 
curiosity,  \vh  ch  can  be  seen  at  a  distance 
of  thirty  mili;s,  and  which  afar  off  resem 
bles  a  shot  Lower ;  but  as  you  near  it,  it 
gradually,  assumes  the  appearance  of  a 
liaystack,  with  a  pole  protruding  from  the 
apex.  It  is  about  two  hundred  feet  in 
hight,  and  is  composed  of  much  the  same 
substance  as  the  Solitary  Tower.  The 
rains  are  gradually  wearing  it  away,  and 
in  course  of  time  it  will  cease  to  be  an  ob 
ject  of  curiosity.  Black  George  informed 
me  that  twenty  years  before,  it  was  at  least 
a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  feet 
above  its  present  elevation. 

Pursuing  our  journey,  we  encamped  in 
the  evening  on  Scott's  Bluffs,  where  we 
found  a  good  spring,  and  plenty  of  grass 
for  our  animals.  As  wood  was  abundant 
here,  we  started  a  fire,  and  while  sitting 
around  discussing  our  meat  and  smoking 
our  pipes,  the  old  trapper,  who  had  not 
been  loquacious  for  several  days,  observed : 

"  Strangers,  heyar's  what  can't  look 
rouua  this  spot  without  feelin  badly — I'll 
be  dog-gone  ef  I  can  !  " 

"  And  why  so  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Case  one  o'  the  almightiest  best  fellers 
yotvever  seed,  went  under  here.  I  knowed 
him  like  a  trump  ;  and  he  was  one  o'  them 
chaps  you  could  bear  to  talk  about — real 
mountain  grit,  with  a  hand  that  u'd  make 
your  fingers  ache  when  he  squeezed  'em, 
and  a  fist  that  could  knock  a  hole  into  your 
upper  story  and  let  in  the  atmospheric  ef 
he  didn't  like  ye.  Yes,  he  was  one  o'  the 
purtiest  men  that  ever  raised  hair,  throwed 
buiiler,  trapped  beaver,  swallered  "  bou- 
dins,"  or  I'm  a  liar.  But  all  wouldn't  do. 
Death  sot  his  trap  and  cotched  him,  and 
left  jest  a  few  floatin  sticks  in  the  shape 
o'  bones  to  let  us  know  he  was  a  goner. 
He  died  right  down  thar,  'bout  six  paces 
from  whar  you're  settin." 

"  Tell  us  the  story." 

"  It's  purty  easy  told.  Him  and  a  heap 
o'  other  fellers  had  bin  up  on  a  right  smart 
trade  with  the  Injius,  and  was  comin  down 
this  way,  going  to  the  States,  when  a  lot  o' 
the  cussed  varmints  jumped  on  to  'em  and 
stole  every  blessed  thing  they  had,  even  to 
thar  guns,  powder,  meat,  and  be  to 


'em.  Well,  Jimmy  Scott — him  as  I's  tell- 
in  about — he  hadn't  bin  well  for  a  week, 
and  gittin  aground  o'  fodder  fetched  him 
right  over  the  coals.  He  kicked  mighty 
hard  at  first ;  but  tindin  it  wasn't  no  use,  he 
gin  in,  and  told  them  as  was  with  him  that 
his  time  was  up,  and  he  would  hev  to  do 
the  rest  o'  his  trappin  in  another  country, 
and  that  they'd  best  put  out  while  they'd 
got  meat  enough  on  thar  bones  to  make 
wolves  foller  'em.  They  hated  to  leave 
him  like  darnation — but  they  had  to  do  it ; 
and  so  they  sot  him  up  agin  a  rock  and 
vamosed.  This  was  about  a  mile  down  on 
tother  side  thar ;  and  arter  they'd  gone, 
Jimmy  got  up  and  paddled  here,  whar  he 
laid  down  and  went  a  wolfin.  Nobody 
ever  seed  Jimmy  Scott  arterwards — but 
they  found  his  floatin  sticks  here,  and  gin 
this  the  name  o'  Scott's  Bluffs." 

The  next  day,  long  before  sundown,  we 
came  in  sight  of  Fort  Laramie,  where  it 
was  the  intention  of  Huntly  and  mystlf 
to  spend  a  few  days,  to  refresh  ourselves 
and  rest  our  animals,  before  attempting  the 
perilous  journey  of  the  mountains.  On 
our  whole  route,  from  the  moment  we 
crossed  Kansas  river,  we  had  not  be«fn 
gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  single  white 
man  but  ourselves  ;  and  consequently  my 
delight  may  be  imagined,  when  I  beht'jd 
the  walls  of  this  celebrated  fortress  appeu 
in  the  distance,  and  felt  that  there  at  leys! 
I  could  rest  in  safety. 

Fort  Laramie  stands  upon  slightly  eJc 
vated  ground,  some  two  miles  from  thr 
Platte,  and  on  the  west  bank  of  Laramie 
Fork.  It  is  a  dirty  and  clumsy  looking 
edifice,  built  of  adobes,*  after  the  Mexican 
style,  with  walls  some  two  feet  in  thick 
ness  and  fifteen  in  hight,  in  which  are 
planted  posts  to  support  the  roof,  the  whole 
being  covered  with  a  clay-like  substance. 
Through  this  wall  are  two  gateways,  one 
at  the  north  and  the  other  at  the  south, 
and  the  top  is  surmounted  by  a  wooden 
palisade.  Over  the  main  or  front  entrance 
is  a  square  tower,  built  also  of  adobes ; 
and  at  two  angles,  diagonally  opposite  each 
other,  are  large  square  bastions,  so  ar 
ranged  as  to  sweep  the  four  faces  of  the 
walls.  The  center  of  the  fort  is  an  open 
square,  quadrangular  in  shape,  along  the 


*  Sun-burned  bricks. 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE     FAR     WEST. 


53 


«des  of  which  are  dwellings,  store-rooms, 
Btablr.s,  carpenter  shops,  smith  shops,  of 
fices,  «fec.,  all  fronting  upon  the  inner  area. 

This  fort  belongs  to  the  North  American 
Fur  Company,  and  is  a  general  rendezvous 
for  traders,  travelers,  trappers,  Indians, 
emigrants,  &c.,  on  their  way  to  and  from 
the  different  trading  posts,  Oregon  and  the 
United  States.  Here  may  be  found  repre 
sentatives  of  all  nations  and  colors,  meet 
ing  on  an  equal  footing,  often  drinking  and 
gambling  together,  many  of  whom  may  be 
put  down  as  implacable  enemies,  and  who, 
at  another  time  and  place,  would  think 
nothing  of  cutting  each  others'  throats. 
Here  occasionally  may  be  seen  the  Ponka, 
the  Pawnee,  the  Crow,  the  Blackfoot,  the 
Sioux  and  the  Shoshone — intermingled  with 
the  Spaniard,  the  Frenchman,  the  Mexican, 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  the  Dutchman  and  Xe- 
gro.  The  trapper  comes  in  at  certain 
seasons  loaded  with  furs,  and  receives  in 
exchange  for  them  powder,  lead,  tobacco, 
whisky,  <fec.,  at  the  most  exorbitant  prices. 
Then  generally  follow  a  few  days  of  dissi 
pation — in  feasting,  gambling,  drunken 
ness,  and  sometimes  riot — when  he  finds 
all  his  hard  earnings  gone,  and  he  obliged 
to  betake  himself  again  to  the  mountains, 
to  procure  a  new  supply,  to  be  squandered 
in  the  same  reckless  manner. 

As  we  rode  up  to  the  fort,  we  noticed 
several  Indians  standing  outside,  carelessly 
leaning  against  the  mud-covered  walls, 
their  persons  bedecked  with  gew-gaws, 
and  their  faces  bedaubed  with  paint,  look 
ing  surly  and  ferocious,  evidently  under  the 
excitement  of  liquor,  and  ready  at  any  mo 
ment,  did  not  their  cowardice  and  fears 
restrain  them,  to  take  the  life  and  scalp  of 
the  first  white  man  that  should  come  in 
their  way.  Standing  among  them,  and 
addressing  one  who  from  his  superiority  of 
costume  and  equipments  I  judged  to  be  a 
chief,  was  a  man  of  small  stature,  mostly 
concealed  under  a  large  sarape  and  broad- 
brimmed  sombrero. 

"  H — 1 ! "  exclaimed  Black  George,  with 
an  indignant  scowl :  •«  Ef  thar  aint  one  o' 
them  infernal  Greasers,  I  wish  I  may  be 
dogged  !  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is,  he'd 
better  not  come  foolin  round  this  child,  or 
he'll  find  his  hair  lifted.  Eh  !  Ned  ?  " 

"  Won't  nothin  short." 


Passing  through  the  gateway,  we  soon 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  our  cavallada 
well  disposed  of;  and  entering  the  com 
mon  reception  room,  took  a  friendly  drink 
together;  after  which,  lighting  our  pipes, 
(Huntly  and  myself  had  already  adopted 
this  habit  since  leaving  home,)  we  strolled 
around  the  fortress  to  gratify  our  curiosity, 
and  while  away  the  time  till  supper. 

We  found  everything  in  perfect  order, 
all  the  various  compartments  cleanly,  and 
the  fort  well  garrisoned  by  a  dozen  hardy 
fellows,  each  of  whom  had  seen  more  or 
less  service,  and  the  commander  of  whom 
was  at  least  a  veteran  in  experience  if  not 
iu  years. 

The  fort  was  not  crowded  by  any  means 
— it  not  being  the  season  of  year  for  the 
traders  and  trappers  to  be  "  in  " — but  still 
the  number  of  guests  was  quite  respect 
able.  There  were  a  few  families  of  emi 
grants  on  their  way  to  Oregon  and  Cali 
fornia,  and  one  or  two  home-sick  ones  on 
their  return  to  the  United  States,  looking 
pale,  sickK,  and  dejected.  Some  half  a 
dozen  Indians,  two  or  three  Mexicans,  as 
many  French  voyageurs,  four  or  five  trap 
pers  and.  hunters — all  of  whom  were  re 
cognized  by  our  companions — a  brace  of 
Yankee  speculators,  another  of  coureur  des 
bois,*  together  with  the  squaw-wives  and 
children  of  the  garrison — completed,  as 
far  as  I  could  judge  by  a  hasty  glance, 
the  present  occupants  of  the  station. 

On  the  eastern  side  of  the  fort  we  found 
an  additional  wall  to  the  one  I  have  de 
scribed,  which  connected  with  the  main 
one  at  both  extremities,  and  enclosed 
ground  for  stabling  and  carrell.  A  large 
gateway  opened  into  this  from  the  south 
ern  side,  and  a  postern  communicated  with 
it  from  the  main  enclosure.  Here  were 
carrelled  a  few  mules  and  cattle  belonging 
to  the  emigrants,  while  in  the  stables  our 
own  horses  were;  enjoying  the  best  the 
country  afforded,  for  which  of  course  we 
expected  to  pay  at  least  six  prices.  In 
view  of  this  important  item,  and  their  in 
capacity  to  meet  it,  the  mountaineers  had 
taken  care  to  put  their  mules  on  less  ex 
pensive  diet. 

In  the  main  enclosure  or  common,  were 

»  Itinerant  trauers  or  peddlen. 


THh     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


several  heavy  Pittsburgh  wagvms,  some  of 
which  were  undergoing  repairs  at  the 
hands  of  the  various  mechanics  employed 
about  the  station.  As  we  drew  near  them 
after  leaving  the  carrel],  we  noticed  that 
several  had  left  their  employment  and  col 
lected  in  a  group  round  some  object  which 
we  could  not  make  out  from  where  we 
stood,  while  others  had  suspended  their 
labors  and  were  gazing  in  the  same  direc 
tion,  evidently  on  the  point  of  joining  their 
comrades.  As  by  this  time  Huntly  and  I 
xere  by  ourselves,  and  our  curiosity  being 
excited,  we  eagerly  sprang  forward,  and 
elbowing  our  way  through  the  fast  thick 
ening  crowd,  to  our  surprise  beheld  what 
I  shall  proceed  to  describe  in  the  following 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  CURIOUS  INDIAN  PONY ALARMING  RU 
MOR POMPOSITY THE  RENOWNED  MOUN 
TAINEER THE  AMUSING  MISTAKE THE 

MYSTERIOUS  EQUESTRIENNE. 

IN  the  center  of  the  ring  stood  an  In 
dian  pony  of  the  largest  class,  and  the 
most  beautiful  animal  I  had  ever  seen. 
His  color  was  a  jet  black,  and  so  glossy 
that  it  seemed  to  possess  the  power  of  re 
flection.  Every  point  and  limb  was  per 
fectly  developed,  with  legs  sleek  and  slim, 
and  a  beautifully  arched  neck,  on  which 
was  a  head  that  bore  the  look  of  conscious 
superiority  and  pride.  His  trappings  were 
in  perfect  keeping  with  all  the  rest.  A 
small,  delicately  formed  Spanish  saddle, 
designed  for  an  equestrienne,  surmounted 
his  back,  underneath  which  was  a  saddle 
blanket  of  wampum,  most  beautifully 
wrought  with  fine.,  shiny  beads  of  all  col 
ors,  into  various  birds  and  flowers,  and 
which  being  long  and  hanging  low,  almost 
enveloped  him  in  its  ample  folds.  Even 
his  bridle,  martingales,  reins,  and  belly- 
girth,  were  worked  in  the  same  beautiful 
manner,  with  beads  of  red,  white  and  blue. 
He  was  walking  to  and  fro,  snuffing  the 
uir,  pawing  the  ground,  and  occasionally 
turning  his  gaze  upon  the  crowd  Avith  a 
proud  look,  as  if  conscious  he  was  an  ob 
ject  both  of  curiosity  and  admiration. 

Various  were   the  remarks  of  surprise 


and  delight  which  vff-rv,  pacsed  upon  him 
by  the  excited  spectators,  some  of  whom 
ventured  to  pat  his  sleek  ueck  and  rub  his 
head.  At  length  one  strapping  fellow 
caught  him  by  the  bridle,  mid  placed  his 
hand  upon  the  saddle  as  if  w;th  (he  inten 
tion  of  vaulting  upon  his  back-.  But  this, 
according  to  the  pony's  notion,  T^as  carry 
ing  familiarity  a  little  too  far;  and  with  a 
loud  neigh,  a  rear  and  plunge,  be  tore 
himself  away,  nor  would  he  afterward 
permit  a  hand  to  touch  him,  although  he 
still  remained  quietly  in  the  ring. 

"By  heavens!"  exclaimed  Huntly, 
"saw  you  ever  the  like,  Frank? — saw  yov 
any  thing  of  the  brute  creation  so  beauti 
ful?" 

"  Never  in  my  life,"  I  replied  ;  "  and  J 
assure  you  I  am  anxious  to  behold  his 
rider — for  by  the  saddle  it  is  a  female." 

"  True ;  I  did  not  think  of  that ;  and  it 
she  prove  half  as  beautiful,  i'  faith  I  fear 
I  shall  find  myself  in  love  with  her." 

"Notwithstanding  the  lovely  unknown 
—eh!  Charley?" 

"  Come,  come — no  home  thrusts  now,'* 
answered  Huntly,  good  humoredly.  "  De 
not  rub  a  part  already  too  tender." 

"Well,  heyar's  what's  seed  a  good  manj 
sights  in  my  time,  but  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef 
ever* I  seed  any  thing  o'  the  hoss  kind  ar 
could  hold  a  primin  to  this  critter,"  said 
the  voice  of  Black  George,  who  had  come 
up  behind  us. 

"  But  who  and  where  is  the  rider  ?  "  J 
asked,  turning  to  him. 

"  Don't  know  whar,  but  spect  it's  some 
squaw  or  other — augh  !  " 

"  The  rider  is  an  Indian  female,  the 
most  perfect  I  ever  beheld,"  rejoined  » 
stranger  at  my  elbow,  and  whom  I  recog 
nized  as  one  of  the  speculators  .previously 
mentioned. 

"Where  is  she  ?  where  is  she  ?"  cries' 
several  voices,  before  I  had  time  to  respond 
to  my  informant  ;  and  immediately  the 
stranger  became  the  center  of  observation 

"  She  is  now  closetted  with  the  com 
mander  of  the  garrison." 

"  Then  perhaps  she  brings  important 
news  ?  "  observed  Huntly. 

"  Nothing  more  proba"ble,  sir,"  was  the 
reply.  "There  is  a  good  deal  of  dissatis 
faction  among  the  Indians,  I  understand." 

"Indeed!"  I  replied.     "And  do  yo> 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR     WEST. 


55 


think  the  route  westward  particularly  dan 
gerous  at  this  time  ?  " 

"  I  do  ;  for  rumors  have  reached  us  that 
the  Crows,  the  Oglallahs,  the  Gros  Ven- 
tres,  the  Cheyennes,  and  one  or  two  other 
tribes,  have  vowed  to  take  vengeance  on 
all  the  whites  that  fall  in  their  way  ;  and 
it  is  said,  1  do  not.  know  with  how  much 
truth,  that  the  Oglallahs  are  out  on  the 
Black  Hill  range  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
lied  Buttes,  while  the  Crows  are  skulking 
through  the  valley  of  the  iSweetwater." 

"Why  this  is  alarming,  truly,"  I  re 
joined  ;  "  and  certainly  discouraging  to 
those  who,  like  ourselves,  are  going  merely 
for  adventure  and  amusement." 

"if  adventure  or  amusement  is  your 
onlv  object  in  crossing  the  Rocky  mount 
ains,  take  my  advice,  young  men,  and 
either  turn  buck  or  remain  where  you 
are." 

"And  yet  why  should  they  turn  back  ?  " 
said  a  voice  behind  us.  "All  men  ar  born 
to  die,  and  it's  not  probable  any  will  go 
before  thar  time.  Courage  and  resolution 
ar  every  thing  in  this  part  of  the  world." 

I  turned  round  and  beheld  in  the  speak 
er  a  young  man  of  small  stature  and  ro 
bust  frame,  over  whose  clean-shaven  face 
time  had  not  drawn  a  wrinkle.  His  fea 
tures  were  regular  and  prepossessing. 
The  general  expression  of  his  intelligent 
countenance  was  so  reserved  and  unob 
trusive,  that  I  readily  felt  surprised  he 
should  have  hazarded  the  remarks  just 
quoted,  without  first  being  called  upon  for 
his  opinion.  To  all  appearance  he  had  not 
seen  over  twenty-live  winters,  though  in 
reality  he  might  have  been  much  older, 
so  difficult  was  it  to  determine  by  his  coun 
tenance.  He  had  light  hair — a  keen,  rest 
less,  eagle-like  gray  eye— an  ample  fore 
head — and  a  skin  which,  but  for  exposure 
U>  all  kinds  of  weather,  had  doubtless  been 
as  fair  and  as  soft  as  a  lady's.  Though 
small  in  stature  and  small  limbed,  as  1 
said  before,  I  noticed  there  was  in  all  a 
beautiful  symmetry^ — a  perfect  adaptation 
of  one  part  to  another.  His  limbs,  though 
slender,  were  plump  and  wiry,  with  mus 
cles  of  iron  ;  and  being  someihing  of  a 
connoiseur  in  such  matters,  I  at  once  put 
him  down  as  an  active,  and,  for  his  inches, 
a  powerful  man.  He  was  costumed  in  the 
usual  mountain  style,  and  I  judged  had 


just  entered  the  fort,  as  I  did  not  remem 
her  having  seen  him  before. 

As  he  spoke,  I  noticed  that  several  of 
the  bystanders  whispered  to  others,  and 
that  instantly  all  eyes  became  fixed  upon 
him,  with  an  air  of  curiosity  which  I  could 
not  account  for — there  being  nothing  par 
ticularly  remarkable  in  his  appearance,  as 
I  have  shown  by  my  description.  The 
stranger  to  whom  he  had  addressed  his  re 
marks,  coolly  examined  him  from  head  to 
foot,  as  one  who  felt  a  little  nettled  at  his 
interference,  and  wished  to  assure  himself 
of  the  exact  importance  that  should  be  at 
tached  to  his  words  before  he  ventured  a 
reply.  By  a  slight  curl  of  the  lip  into 
something  like  a  sneer,  I  saw  at  once  he 
was  not  a  judge  of  human  nature,  and  had 
underrated  the  new  comer  not  a  little. 
He  was  himself  a  supercilious  man,  who 
delighted  in  giving  advice  with  a  patroni 
zing  air,  and  consequently  did  not  care  to 
•have  his  wise  counsel  questioned  by  what 
he  evidently  considered  an  interloper.  He 
therefore,  after  taking  a  complete  and  rath 
er  insolent  survey  of  the  other's  person, 
replied  rather  pompously  : 

"Why  should  they  turn  back,  say  you  ? 
Because  there  is  danger,  great  danger,  to 
them  if  they  advance  farther,  as  any  one 
who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  this  part  of 
the  country  must  be  aware.  If  you  had 
traveled  it  as  much  as  /have,  sir,  (there 
was  an  important  stress  on  the  pronoun,) 
you  would,  I  fancy,  understand  the  value 
of  my  advice  ;  but  young  men  (the  speak 
er  was  about  thirty)  on  their  first  hunt  are 
apt  to  be  very  knowing  and  imprudent — 
and,  sir,  I  may  add.  without  wishing  to  be 
personal,  a  little  impudent  also." 

Here  the  speaker  straightened  himself 
up  with  an  air  of  importance,  and  glanced 
around  upon  the  spectators,  where  he  saw 
many  a  quiet  smile,  which  he  was  fain  to 
attribute  to  silent  approvals  of  his  own 
lofty  and  conclusive  argument.  The  new 
comer  also  smiled  slightly,  as  he  quietly 
asked  : 

"May  I  inquire,  sir,  how  much  of  the 
country  you've  traveled?" 

"Thousands  of  miles,  young  man — thou 
sands  of  miles,  sir  !  Yes,  sir  !  1  have 
been  twice  to  Oregon,  and  once  to  Cali 
fornia." 

"Is  that  all?" 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR 


4  Thiu  all,  sir !  Umpli  !  that,  let  me 
tell  you,  is  a  good  deal,  sir,  as  you  will 
find  when  you  have  gone  over  the  half 
of  it." 

"  I  think  I  have  already — at  least  that's 
my  impression, "was  the  somewhat  nettling 
answer,  which  was  rendered  none  the  less 
so  to  the  speculator,  by  a  few  half  suppress 
ed  titters  and  one  hearty  laugh  from  the 
crowd. 

"  Indeed  !  young  man.  Pray  be  so  good 
as  to  inform  us  where  you  have  been  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  much  easier  to  tell  you 
whar  I've  not  been,"  answered  the  other 
pleasantly.  "  But  I  may  say,  without  fear 
of  contradiction,  that  I've  seen  nearly  every 
foot  of  ground  from  the  Yellow  Stone  to 
the  Spanish  Peaks — from  the  Mississippi 
to  the  Pacific  ocean." 

"  Your  name,  stranger  ?  "  said  the  other, 
a  little  crest-fallen. 

"  I'm  called  KIT  CARSON." 

At  the  quiet  mention  of  that  renowned 
name,  better  known  on  the  mountains  and 
over  the  broad  West  than  that  of  any  other 
living  being,  and  which  was  as  familiar  to 
me  as  a  household  word,  I  involuntarily 
gave  a  start  of  surprise,  while  three  deaf 
ening  cheers  went  up  from  the  crowd, 
mingled  with  boisterous  shouts  of  laughter, 
to  the  no  small  chagrin  and  mortification 
of  the  pompous  speculator,  who  muttered 
something  which  to  me  sounded  very  much 
like  an  oath. 

Here,  then,  stood  the  famous  Kit  Carson! 
a  being  I  had  long  had  a  secret  desire  to 
behold,  but  whom  I  had  always  pictured 
to  myself  as  huge,  rough,  brawny  and  fe- 
••ocious.  Nor  could  I  bring  myself  to  re 
alize  that  the  person  before  me  was  that 
same  incarnate  devil  in  Indian  fight  I  had 
heard  him  represented,  and  who  had  killed 
and  scalped  more  savages  in  the  same 
number  of  years  than  any  two  hunters 
west  of  the  old  Mississippi. 

When  the  laugh  and  tumult  had  some 
what  subsided,  the  stranger,  anxious  to 
escape  ridicule,  observed  : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  acknowledge  my  ver 
dancy,  and  feel  myself  indebted  to  you  a 
treat.  Kit  Carson,  your  hand  !  and  how 
wrilJ  you  have  yours — mixed  or  clear  ?" 

Another  burst  of  merriment  broke  from 
tlift  crowd,  with  three  hearty  cheers  for  the 
speculator  and  the  prospect  of  a  speedy 


"  wet  "  all  round.  Suddenly  the  boister 
ous  tumult  subsided  as  if  by  magic,  and 
not  a  man  ventured  a  remark  above  a 
whisper,  while  the  eyes  of  each  became 
fixed  upon  some  object  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  square. 

"  Stand  back  !  stand  back  !  She  comes  ! 
she  conies!  "  I  heard  whispered  on  all  sides 
of  me. 

"  Look,  Frank — look  !  "  said  Huntly,  in 
a  suppressed  voice,  clutching  my  arm  ner 
vously. 

I  did  look  ;  and  what  I  beheld  I  feel 
myself  incompetent  to  describe  and  do 
the  subject  justice.  Before  me,  perfectly 
erect,  her  tiny  feet  scarce  seeming  to  touch 
the  ground  she  trod,  was  a  being  which 
required  no  great  stretch  of  imagination  to 
fancy  just  dropped  from  some  celestial 
sphere.  She  was  a  little  above  medium  in 
stature,  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  with 
a  form  as  symmetrical  and  faultless  as  ;i 
Venus.  Twenty  summers  (I  could  not  re 
alize  she  had  ever  seen  a  winter)  had 
molded  her  features  into  what  I  may  term 
a  classic  beauty,  as  if  chiselled  from  mar 
ble  by  the  hand  of  a  master.  Her  skin 
was  dark,  but  not  more  so  than  a  Creole's, 
and  with  nothing  of  the  brownish  or  red 
dish  hue  of  the  native  Indian.  It  wai 
beautifully  clear  too,  and  apparently  of  a 
velvet-like  softness.  Her  hair  was  a  glos 
sy  black,  and  her  hazel  eyes  were  large 
and  lustrous,  fringed  with  long  lashes,  and 
arched  by  tine,  pencilled  brows.  Her  pro- 
tile  was  straight  from  forehead  to  chin, 
and  her  full  face  oval,  lighted  with  a  soul 
of  feeling,  fire  and  intelligence.  A  well 
formed  mouth,  guarded  by  two  plump  lips, 
was  adorned  by  a  beautiful  set  of  teeth, 
partially  displayed  when  she  spoke  or 
smiled.  A  slightly  aquiline  nose  gave  an 
air  of  decision  to  the  whole  countenance, 
and  rendered  its  otherwise  almost  too 
effeminate  expression,  noble,  lofty  and 
commanding. 

Her  costume  was  singular,  and  such  as 
could  not  fail  to  attract  universal  attention. 
A  scarlet  waistcoat  concealed  a  well  devel 
oped  bust,  to  which  were  attached  short 
sleeves  and  skirts — the  latter  coming  bare 
ly  to  the  knees,  something  after  the  fashion 
of  the  short  frock  worn  by  the  danseuse  of 
the  present  day.  Thesr  skirts  were  show 
ily  embroidered  tfith  wampum,  and  a 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


humpum  belt  passed  around  her  waist,  in 
orhicii  glittered  a  silver-mounted  Spanish 
dirk.  From  the  frock  downward,  leggins 
and  moccasins  beautifully  wrought  into 
various  figures  with  beads,  enclosed  the 
legs  and  feet.  A  tiara  of  many  colored 
feathers,  to  which  were  attached  little  bells 
that  tinkled  as  she  walked,  surmounted 
the  head  ;  and  a  bracelet  of  pearl  on  either 
well  rounded  arm,  with  a  necklace  of  the 
same  material,  completed  her  costume  and 
ornaments. 

With  a  proud  carriage,  and  an  unabash 
ed  look  from  her  dark,  eloquent  eye,  she 
advanced  a  few  paces,  glanced  loftily 
around  upon  the  surprised  and  admiring- 
spectators,  and  then  struck  the  palms  of 
her  hands  together  in  rapid  succession. 
In  a  moment  her  Indian  pony  came  pranc 
ing  to  her  side.  With  a  single  bound  she 
vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and  gracefully  wa 
ving  us  a  silent  adieu,  instantly  vanished 
through  the  open  gateway. 

Rushing  out  of  the  fort,  the  excited  crowd 
barely  caught  one  more  glimpse  of  her 
beautiful  form,  ere  it  became  completely 
lost  in  the  neighboring  forest. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  who  can  she  be  ?  "  cried 
a  dozen  persons  at  once. 

"  PERRAEIE  FLOWER,  or  I'm  a  nigger," 
shouted  a  well  known  voice  in  reply. 

I  turned  and  beheld  Black  George  al 
ready  working  himself  up  to  a  great  pitch 
of  excitement. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

PRAIRIE  FLOWER    AND   HER  ALARMING  INTEL- 

LICEXCE SUPEUSr  TIOX SPECULATION— 

THE   DILEMMA KFT    KARSON's    SUGGES 
TION THE  DECISION TEACHING  TEDDV 

THE  MARCH THE  SCOUTS THE  HALT  AND 

PREPARATIONS  FOR  FIGHT. 

THE  news  brought  by  Prairie  Flower 
we  learned  in  the  course  of  the  evenino- 
was  of  the  utmost  importance — being  to 
the  effe-jt  that  a  large  band  of  warriors, 
composed  chiefly  of  Oglallahs  and  Chey- 
ennes,  had  taken  up  their  position  in  the 
vicinity  of  Bitter  Cottonwood — a  place 
some  twenty-five  miles  distant — and  had 
vowed  to  cut  off  all  the  whites  that  came 
tiifti  way,  either  going  to  or  comino-  from 


Oregon.  The  result  of  this  information 
was  to  cause  no  little  alarm  in  the  station, 
particularly  among  the  emigrants,  who 

1  ., 

being  for  the  greater  part  composed  of 
women  and  children,  were  consequently  in 
no  fit  condition  to  brave  the  assaults  of  a 
blood-thirsty  body  of  savages. 

But  who  was  Prairie  Flower — the  mys 
terious  messenger  that  belonged  to  the 
Indians,  and  yet  came  like  a  guardian 
angel  to  warn  the  whites  of  their  danger? 
Who  was  she  indeed  !  None  could  answer. 
To  all  save  the  commander  of  the  garrison 
and  Black  George,  (who  now  had  to  re 
hearse  his  remarkable  story  a  dozen  times, 
to  gratify  the  curiosity  of  the  excited  in 
quirers,  and  who  became  a  personage  of 
no  little  importance  in  consequence,)  she 
was  an  utter  stranger  ;  and  for  all  auy  one 
knew  to  the  contrary,  might  have  dropped 
from  the  skies,  a  winged  being  of  a  fairei 
realm.  The  commander  of  the  garrison, 
whom  I  shall  term  Captain  Balcolm,  had 
seen  her  once  before,  when  she  came  to 
warn  him  of  the  Sioux,  who  were  meditat 
ing  a  descent  upon  the  fort,  a  surprise  and 
general  massacre  of  its  inmates,  and  whose 
design  by  this  timely  notice  was  thwarted  ; 
but  regarding  who  she  was,  how  she  gained 

o  o  o 

her  information,  to  what  tribe  she  belonged, 
or  why  she  was  permitted  to  do  these  good 
acts  and  escape — he  could  give  no  satis 
factory  reply.  On  both  occasions  she  had 
required  a  private  audience  with  him  ;  and 
on  the  former  one  had  sent  a  request  to 
him  by  an  Indian  half-breed,  to  meet  her 
in  a  little  grove  some  hundred  yards  dis 
tant  from  the  walls  of  the  fortress. 

At  first  he  had  refused  to  go  unattended, 
for  fear  of  some  stratagem  to  take  his  life 
or  make  him  prisoner.  The  messenger 
had  gone  back  evidently  dissatisfied,  but 
in  a  few  minutes  had  returned  with  a  skin 
parchment,  on  which  the  same  request,  aa 
orally  delivered,  was  written  with  a  charred 
stick,  with  the  additional  statement  that 
the  writer  was  a  female,  and  that  the  newa 
she  had  to  convey  was  of  great  moment. 

Ashamed  to  show  further  cowardice,  he 
had  armed  himself  to  the  teeth,  and  call 
ing  his  garrison  around  him,  had  notified 
them  to  be  in  readiness  to  protect  the  furl 
if  besieged,  and  avenge  him  on  the  half- 
breed,  whom  he  left  with  them  as  hostage, 
in  case  he  returned  not  within  two  hours-- 


58 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    D  R , 


merely  slating,  by  way  of  explanation,  that 
he  van  going'  to  hold  a  private  conference 
with  a  distinguished  chief.  The  result  of 
this  conference,  as  before  stated,  had  been 
to  save  the  lives  of  all,  and  defeat  a  well 
laid  scheme  of  their  enemies. 

Captain  Balcolm  furthermore  stated,  that 
Prairie  Flower,  as  she  called  herself,  spoke 
the  English  language  well  and  fluently  ; 
and  that  to  his  inquiry  regarding  herself 
and  tribe,  she  had  answered  with  a  smile, 
that  she  must  ever  remain  a  mysterious 
being  to  him  and  all  of  his  race  ;  that  as  to 
tribe.she  found  herself  a  welcome  guest  with 
all — came  and  went  as  she  chose  without 
question  or  hindrance — and  that  the  lan 
guage  of  each  she  understood  and  spoke 
as  readily  as  her  mother  tongue. 

"  In  conclusion,"  added  the  gallant  cap 
tain,  "  I  must  say,  that  with  all  ray  expe 
rience,  I  have  never  seen  so  perfect,  so 
mysterious,  so  incomprehensible  a  being 
as  herself.  Were  I  superstitious,  I  should 
unquestionably  be  tempted  to  doubt  my 
senses,  and  believe  her  a  supernatural  visi- 
ter ;  but  I  have  touched  her,  and  know 
that  she  is  flesh  and  blood." 

Many  there  were  in  the  fort,  however, 
who  had  not  so  much  faith  in  her  identity 
with  an  earthly  habitant  as  the  captain  ; 
and  I  often  heard  confidential  whispers 
to  the  effect,  that  she  was  a  being  from 
another  realm,  who  had  assumed  the  mor 
tal  shape  for  the  time,  merely  to  bring 
about  some  special  design  of  the  Great 
Spirit;  and  that  when  said  design1  should 
be  accomplished,  she  would  never  be  seen 
again  by  living  mortal. 

The  Indian,  it  is  well  known  to  all  who 
know  anything  of  his  history,  is  the  most 
superstitious  creature  on  earth,  and  be 
lieves  in  the  direct  interference  of  spirits, 
in  bodily  shape  or  otherwise,  on  any  and 
every  momentous  occasion ;  and  as  the 
trapper  or  hunter  is  but  little  removed  from 
him  by  civilization,  and  not  a  whit  by 
knowledge  gained  from  letters,  it  is  hardly 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  would  im 
bibe  ideas  at  war  with  those  among  whom 
the  most  of  his  eventful  life  is  spent.  In 
his  earliest  venture,  he  learns  and  adopts 
the  habits  of  his  enemy,  and  in  some  cases 
it  would  seem  his  very  nature  also  ;  and  the 
result  is,  that  he  becomes  at  last  neither 
more  nor  less  than  what  I  may  venture  to 


term  a  civilized  savage.  And  here  I  may 
remark,  en  passant,  that  your  real,  bona 
tide  mountaineer,  rarely  looks  beyond  tho 
lodge  of  some  favorite  tribe  for  a  partnei 
to  share  his  toils  and  rear  his  progeny ; 
and  to  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  even  the 
garrison  of  Fort  Laramie  bore  striking  evi 
dence  ;  for  scarcely  a  wife  -among  them, 
but  was  a  full-blooded  squaw — nor  a  child, 
but  bore  the  cross  of  the  red  man  and 
white. 

Various  were  the  speculations  that  nigh*, 
regarding  Prairie  Flower  and  ho  alarming 
intelligence.  The  truthfulness  of  the  latter 
none  seemed  to  question,  howe/er  much 
they  might  the  identity  of  the  for,(/jr  with 
the  race  called  mortal.  That  thb  Indiana 
were  at  Bitter  Cottonwood  in  great  force, 
was  therefore  a  mutter  beyond  dispute 
and  the  question  was  what  should  DC  dono 
under  the  circumstances  ?  io  remain  ia- 
active,  was  only  to  act  the  rvrt  of  cowards, 
doom  a  portion  of  their  ow/«  race  to  certain 
destruction,  augment  the  confidence  of  the 
wily  foe  in  his  own  resources,  and  conse 
quently  raise  his  hopes  svith  the  flush  of 
success,  and  increase  his  daring  and  au 
dacity.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  to  assail 
him  in  all  his  strength  in  his  own  strong 
hold,  with  only  a  handful  of  men,  was  like 
rushing  unarmed  into  the  lion's  den  and 
courting  speedy  annihilation.  In  this  di 
lemma  what  was  to  be  done  ?  Something, 
all  admitted,  must  be  done,  and  that  quick 
ly — but  what  that  something  was,  no^f 
became  a  matter  >of  serious  deliberation. 
Some  proposed  one  thing,  and  some  ano 
ther,  and  the  discussion  waxed  warm,  and 
seemed  likely  to  be  protracted  indefinitely, 
without  resulting  in  the  agreement  of  any 
two  to  the  proposal  of  any  other  two. 

At  length  Kit  Carson,  who  had  sat  and 
listened  attentively  without  venturing  a  re 
mark,  observed : 

"Say  what  you  will,  comrades,  thar  is 
after  all  but  one  way  of  settling  this  affair, 

and  that  is  to  pitch  into  the varmints 

and  lift  their  hair.  I've  had  a  little  expe 
rience  in  my  time,  if  I  am  young  in  years, 
and  may  safely  say  I've  never  knowed  an 
Indian  yet  as  wasn't  a  coward,  when  as 
sailed  in  a  vigorous  manner  by  a  deter 
mined  pale-face.  I've  rode  right  among 
thar  lodges  before  now,  and  alone,  single- 
handed,  raised  a  top-knot  in  full  view  of 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE     FAR    WEST 


59 


fifty  able  bodied  warriors,  and  their  squaws 
and  pappooses.  Now  if  I  could  do  this 
myself,  it  argues  favorably  for  an  attack 
upon  them  in  numbers." 

"  But  what,  then,  do  you  propose  ?  "  I 
inquired. 

"  Why,  sir,  to  arm  and  mount  on  good 
horses  a  dozen  or  fifteen  of  us,  dash  into 
them,  and  fight  our  way  out." 

As.  lie  said  this,  his  brow  wrinkled,  his 
eyes  (lashed,  and  his  whole  countenance 
exhibited  traces  of  that  fiery,  reckless 
daring,  which,  together  with  its  opposite 
coolness  and  great  presence  of  mind,  had 
already  rendered  him  so  famous  in  the  wil 
derness.  I  saw  at  once,  that  however  mild 
and  quiet  he  might  appear  when  not  ex 
cited,  it  only  needed  an  occasion  like  the 
present  to  bring  out  his  latent  energies 
and  make  him  a  terrible  foe  to  contend 
with. 

"Well,"  I  rejoined,  "although  I  came 
merely  for  adventure,  and  beyond  that 
have  no  object  in  pursuing  my  way  fur 
ther,  yet  I  will  readily  volunteer  rny  ser 
vices  in  a  case  of  such  emergency." 

"  And  I,"  responded  Huntly  quickly. 

"  Your  hands,  gentlemen  !"  said  Car 
son.  "  I  took  you  for  men,  and  I  see  I 
was  not  mistaken.  Who  next?  " 

This  rapid  decision  produced  an  electri 
cal  effect  upon  all,  and  in  a  moment  a  doaen 
affirmative  answers  responded  to  the  chal 
lenge,  while  each,  eager  to  get  ahead  of ; 
hift  neighbor,  now  pressed  around  the 
young,  famous,  and  daring  mountaineer. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour,  all  prelimi 
naries  were  settled,  and  sixteen  hardy, 
able-bodied  men  were  mustered  into  the 
ranks.  These  included  the  four  trappers 
who  had  been  our  companions,  together 
with  Huntly,  Teddy  and  myself. 

It  was  then  agreed  that  Kit  Carson 
should  be  our  leader,  and  that  on  the  fol 
lowing  day  we  should  mount  ourselves  on ! 
the  best  horses  that  could  be  procured,  and 
taking  a  roundabout  course,  should  ap 
proach  the  savages  as  near  as  possible 
without  being  discovered,  and  await,  the 
night  to  commence  our  attack.  The  mat 
ter  settled,  we  retired  to  rest,  some  of  us 
for  the  last  time  before  taking  that  final 
sleep  which  knows  no  waking. 

Rolling  myself  in  a  buffalo  skin,  I  threw 
myself  upon  the  ground — but  it  was  a  long 


time  before  I  could  close  my  eyes  in  slum 
ber.  Thoughts  of  what  another  night 
might  bring  forth,  kept  me  awake.  1 
might  be  lying  cold  and  dead  upon  the 
earth,  a  prey  to  wild  beasts — or  what  was 
more  terrifying,  be  a  living  captive  to  a 
merciless  foe,  doomed  to  the  awful  tor 
tures  of  the  stake.  I  thought  too  of  home 
— of  Lilian — of  ilie  mysterious  Prairie 
Flower — and  in.  tlio  confusion  of  all  these, 
fell  asleep,  to  find  them  strangely  com 
mingled  in  my  dreams. 

The  morning  broke  bright  and  beauti 
ful  ;  and'  ere  the  sun  had  more  than  gilded 
the  loftiest  peak  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
we  were  all  astir,  preparing  for  our  haz 
ardous  expedition.  With  the  assistance 
of  Captain  Balcolm,  we  succeeded  in  mus 
tering  sixteen  fine  horses,  including  of 
course  those  we  had  brought  with  us.  We 
then  armed  ourselves  to  the  teeth,  with 
rifles,  pistols,  knives  and  tomahawks,  and 
partaking  of  a  savory  breakfast  tendered 
us  by  the  gallant  commander  of  the  garri 
son,  prepared  ourselves  to  sally  forth. 

Before  we  departed,  however,  I  had  a 
task,  which  proved  far  more  amusing  than 
desirable,  in  explaining  to  Teddy  the  prop 
er  method  of  using  his  rifle  and  pistols,  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  must  conduct  him 
self  in  the  forthcoming  fight.  Having 
slicvfri  him  how  to  load,  prime  and  sight 
the  former  weapon,  I  discharged  it  at  a 
target,  and  ordered  him  to  imitate  my  ex 
ample  with  all  the  despatch  possible. 

"  Jabers  !  "  shouted  Teddy  in  great  glee, 
scampering  off  to  the  target  to  make  an 
examination  of  my  shot. 

In  a  moment  he  returned,  bring-in"-  it  with 

•  O        O 

him  ;  and  pointing  triumphantly  to  a  bul 
let-hole  which  he  found  in  its  center,  he 
said  : 

"  Troth,  your  honor,  but  thim  same 
shooters  is  beauthiful  things,  now,  for  mur« 
thering  the  baastiy  blaggards  of  Injins, 
jist.  Here,  now,  ye's  boured  a  howle 
right  cintral  as  asy  as  meself  could  do  wid 
a  gimlet,  and  yees  a  standing  there  too  all 
the  whiles  !  Be  me  sowl  too  !  an'  now  1 
renumbers  I  didn't  sae  the  ball  at  all,  at 
all,  though  I  looked  mighty  sharp  at  it  all 
the  time  wid  my  two  ej%s.  Howly  inur- 
ther  !  but  Aminca  is  a  great  counthry 
now,  barring  the  tieving  baasts  of  savage* 
that's  in  it." 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


Something  like  an  hour  was  spent  in 
making  Teddy  familiar  with  the  rifle,  at 
the  end  of  which,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
finding  him  tit  for  duty.  By  this  time  ail 
save  he  and  I  were  in  their  saddles;  an  I 
hastily  mounting,  we  joine  I  the  cavalcade 
— Carson  in  the  van,  and  amid  three  hearty 
cheers  from  the  regular  garrison  (most  of 
whom  remained  to  protect  the  station). 
and  earnest  prayers  from  all  for  our  safety 
and  success  in  the  coming  contest — we 
quitted  the  fort. 

Shaping  our  course  along  the  bank  of 
the  river,  we  advanced  some  ten  or  fifteen 
miles  over  the  regular  Oregon  route,  when 
we  came  to  a  place  called  Big  Spring, 
which  takes  its  name  from  a  large  spring 
of  water  gushing  out  at  the  base  of  a  steep 
hill,  some  quarter  of  a  mile  below  the 
traveled  road.  Here  we  halted  and  held 
a  council  of  war  regarding  our  further 
progress,  which  resulted  in  the  decision  to 
quit  the  road  at  this  point,  and,  by  stri 
ding  off  to  the  left,  keeping  ourselves  cov 
ered  as  much  as  possible  in  the  wood, 
endeavor  to  gain  a  safe  lodgment  near  the 
Indian  camp,  and  remain  quiet  till  after 
nightfall,  when  we  must  be  guided  wholly 
by  circumstances.  It  was  also  thought 
prudent  to  throw  out  a  few  scouts  in  ad 
vance,  lest  we  unknowingly  should  enter 
an  ambuscade  and  all  be  cut  off.  For 
this  purpose  Carson  dismounted,  and  ap 
pointing  me  his  lieutenant,  gave  me  pri 
vate  instructions  regarding  the  route,  and 
at  what  point,  provided  he  had  not  joined 
us  meantime.  [  was  to  hah  and  await  him. 
Then  ordering  two  Canadian-French  voy 
age  urs  to  dismount  also,  he  said  a  few 
words  to  them  in  a  jargon  I  did  not  un 
derstand,  and  in  another  moment  all  three 
had  separated,  and  were  buried  in  the 
surrounding  wood  at  so  many  different 
points  of  compass. 

Leading  the  unridden  horses  of  the 
scouts,  we  slowly  picked  our  way  over 
rough  and  sometimes  dangerous  ground, 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  on  every  side  for 
fear  of  surprise,  until  the  sun  had  reached 
within  an  hour  and  a  half  of  the  horizon, 
when  we  came  to  a  beautiful  little  open 
plat,  covered  wiilf  rich  green  grass  and 
blooming  wild  tlowers,  in  the  center  of 
wl-ich  bubbled  up  a  cool  crystal  spring, 
forming  a  sparkling  little  rivulet,  and  the 


whole  of  which  was  surrounded  by  a  dense 
thicket,  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards 
distant  at  any  point.  This  beautiful  spot 
to  me  seemed  the  oasis  of  the  desert ;  and 
being  to  the  best  of  my  judgment  the  one 
described  by  Kit,  where  I  was  to  await 
him,  I  accordingly  ordered  a  halt.  Dis 
mounting  and  refreshing  ourselves  at  the 

. 

spring,  \ve  watered  our  animals  and  al 
lowed  them  to  graze  around  us,  holding 
fast  to  the  bridle  reins  the  while,  pre 
pared  to  remount  at  a  moment's  notice  or 
the  first  sign  of  danger. 

Half  an  hour  passed  in  this  way,  and 
some  of  the  mountaineers  were  becoming 
impatient,  when,  to  our  great  delight,  we 
beheld  the  welcome  visage  of  Carson,  as 
he  glided  noiselessly  into  the  open  plat  and 
rejoined  us.  And,  singular  enough  !  al 
most  at  the  same  mosnent  the  two  voya- 
geurs  made  their  appearance  at  different 
points,  not  one  of  the  three  having  seen 
either  of  the  others  since  their  parting  from 
us  in  the  morning. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Carson,  thar'll  have 
to  be  some  warm  doings  to  a  certainty ; 
and  those  of  you  who  aint  prepared  to  lose 
your  scalps,  had  better  be  backing  out  or 
getting  ready  as  soon  as  convenient." 

"  Have  you  seen  the  Indians  ?"  asked 
Huntley. 

"  Well  I  have,  and  know  Prairie  Flower 
didn't  lie  either.  Thar  ar  three  distinct 
lodges  of  them — composed  of  Sioui',  Chey- 
enues  and  Blackfeet — at  least  to  the  best 
of  •£•  judgment,  for  I  didn't  like  ventur 
ing  too  close.  They  are  <nmped  in  a 
little  fcollow  just  below  Bitter  Cottonwood, 
not  more  than  three  miles  distant,  and 
evidently  have  no  suspicirn  of  our  being 
near  them." 

"  Well,  what  is  now  to  Le  done  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Wait  till  I've  had  <j.  t/ik  with  these 
Canadians." 

With  this  Kit  called  t\\e  scouts  aside, 
and  after  a  few  minutes'  conversation,  re 
turned  to  me  and  said  : 

"  La  Fanche  and  Gi/nois  both  report, 
they've  seen  no  Indiaa  signs  to  alarm, 
from  which  I  argue,  tl,  at  thinking  them 
selves  secure  where  th<:y  ar,  the  savages 
haven't  taken  thar  usual  precaution  t<» 
send  out  scouts.  Regarding  the  plan  of 
attack,  I  think  we'd  better  let  our  hor*«» 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


61 


feed  here  till  dark,  and  then  ride  through 
the  forest  for  a  couple  of  miles  or  so,  cache 
them,  and  take  it  afoot.  I've  got  the  plan 
fixed  in  my  head,  and  will  tell  you  more 
then.  And  now  let's  feed  and  smoke 
while  we've  got  time." 

We  had  provided  ourselves  with  a  good 
supply  of  jerk,  and  as  none  of  us  had 
eaten  a  morsel  since  leaving  the  fort,  we 
proceeded  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  na 
ture.  This  done,  we  lighted  our  pipes 
and  smoked  and  talked  till  the  shades  of 
night  warned  us  to  be  again  on  the  move. 
Guided  by  Kit,  we  entered  the  thicket 
and  advanced  slowly,  cautiously,  and  si 
lently,  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour, 
when  we  came  to  a  dense  cover  of  cot- 
tonwood. 

"  Halt  and  rope,"  said  Kit,  in  a  low 
tone. 

In  a  moment  each  man  was  on  the 
ground,  and  engaged  in  attaching  his  horse 
securely  to  a  tree,  though  so  dark  was  it 
here  that  everything  had  to  be  done  by 
the  sense  of  touch. 

"See  that  all  your  arms  ar  about  you, 
and  ready,  and  then  follow  me,  Indian  file," 
said  Carson  again  ;  and  in  less  than  three 
minutes,  with  stealthy  tread,  sixteen  de 
termined  men,  one  after  another,  glided 
from  the  thicket  into  an  open  wood,  like  so 
many  specters  stalking  from  the  tombs  of 
the  dead. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

IIIE  EVENING'S  CAMP — OUR  STEPS  RETRACED 
OUR  SECOND  ADVANCE TERRIBLE  AM 
BUSCADE — THE  BLOODY  CONTEST — KIT  CAR- 
SON'S  WONDERFUL  FEATS — REINFORCEMENT 

OF  THE  ENEMT IMMENSE  SLAUGHTER 

MY  HORSE  KILLED A  FOOT  ENCOUNTER 

DESPAIR KIT'S   EFFORT   TO   SAVE  ME 

UNCONSCIOUSNESS 

SOME  three-fourths  of  amile  brought  us 
to  the  brow  of  a  hill,  whence  we^could 
overlook  the  stronghold  of  the  enemy. 
Immediately  below  us  were  several  lodges 
made  of  skins,  around  which  we  could 
faintly  perceive  numerous  dark  figures 
moving  to  and  fro,  and  evidently,  as  we 
nought,  preparing  to  turn  in  for  the  night. 
A.  litile  beyond  this  was  another  encamp 


ment,  or  cluster  of  lodges,  and  still  beyond 
another — the  three  taken  together  number 
ing  not  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  or 
two  hundred  warriors.  And  here  stood 
we,  a  little  band  of  sixteen  men,  about  to 
assail,  at  the  least  calculation,  ten  rimes 
our  own  force.  What  rashness  !  what  a 
fool-hardy  undertaking ! 

"  Charles,"  whispered  I  to  my  friend, 
"  it  is  well  that  you  and  I  are  single  men." 

"Why  so,  Frank?" 

"  Because  neither  wife  nor  child  will  be 
left  to  mourn  our  loss." 

"That  is  true,"  answered  he  with  a 
sigh.  "  But  do  you  then  think  our  doom 
certain  ?  " 

"  If  we  attack  I  do ;  or  least,  that  we 
have  ten  chances  against  us  to  one  in  our 
favor." 

"  It  won't  do,"  whispered  Carson  at  this 
moment,  retreating  a  few  paces,  and  mo 
tioning  us  to  follow  him.  Then  he  added 
in  a  low  tone  : 

"  We're  too  soon,  and  it  will  never  do  to 
try  it  afoot.  I  must  stick  to  my  first  cal 
culation.  Our  only  chance  of  escape  from 
certain  death  must  be  by  our  horses. 
We'll  return  to  them  and  await  the  mid- 
watch  of  night.  Then  we  must  dash 
among  them,  raise  all  the  hair  we  can,  and 
split  for  cover,  or  we  shall  be  rubbed  out 
before  we  know  it.  I  thought  when  I  re- 
connoitered,  it  would  do  better  to  steal  in 
among  them  and  work  silently — but  I  see 
now  our  only  hope  is  by  storm." 

Accordingly  we  retraced  our  steps,  and 
having  gained  the  cover  where  our  animals 
were  concealed,  squatted  down  upon  the 
earth.  As  it  was  yet  too  early  for  our 
meditated  attack,  we  once  more  replenished 
our  pipes,  and  enjoyed  the  refreshing  fra 
grance  of  some  prime  tobacco. 

"I  say,  Kit,"  observed  Black  George, 
"what  d'ye  think  o' that  thar  Injin  gal, 
hey  ?  " 

"  Think  she's  a  mysterious  one." 

"  Ever  seed  her  afore  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  I  have — augh  !  Think  she's  a  speret, 
hey  ?  " 

"  No  !  think  she's  a  human." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  I  do  !  I  je« 
believe  she's  got  wings  and  ken  fly — ef  I 
don't,  call  me  a  nigger  and  put  me  among 
the  cotton  plants — augh  !  ' 


62 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR, 


"  Faith,  thin,  Misther  Black  George, 
yees  and  mesilf  is  thinking  much  alike 
now,"  interposed  Teddy.  "  I  thought  all 
the  whiles  she  was  a  bir-r-d,  barring  the 
feathers  which  is  all  beads  on  her." 

"  Augh  ! — put  out  for  a  greenhorn  now," 
returned  the  old  trapper  sarcastically. 
"She's  no  bir-rer-renl  as  you  sez.  She's 
a  angel,  she  is — ef  she  isn't,  heyars  what 
don't  know  '  fat  cow  from  poor  bull.'  ' 

Talking  of  Prairie  Flower,  our  present 
design,  together  wiih  various  cf.her  matters, 
we  whiled  away  some  two  or  thiee  hours, 
when  Carson  notified  us  it  was  time  to  be 
on  the.  move.  Mounting  once  more  oa>- 
horses,  we  set  forward,  and  bearing  to  the 
left,  descended  immediately  into  the  valley 
in  which  the  foe  was  camped.,  instead  of 
keeping  along  the  brow  of  the  ridge  as  be 
fore.  We  were  now  compelled  to  use  the 
utmost  caution,  as  the  least  sound  might 
betray  us  and  thwart  our  plans. 

At  length  we  again  made  a  halt  in  full 
view  of  the  dark  lodges,  which  were  faintly 
perceptible  in  the  dim  light  of  the  stars, 
and  one  or  two  smouldering  fires  near  the 
center  of  the  encampment.  All  was  still 
as  the  grave,  and,  from  anything  we  could 
discover  to  the  contrary,  as  devoid  of  liv 
ing  thing.  Not  a  word,  not  even  a  whisper, 
was  heard  from  one  of  our  party.  Each 
sat  erect  upon  his  horse,  motionless  as  a 
statue,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  some  object  be 
fore  him,  and  his  mind  it  may  be  upon 
death  and  the  great  hereafter.  At  least, 
so  was  mine  ;  and  though  I  rarely  knew 
fear,  yet  from  some  unaccountable  cause  I 
now  felt  my  heart  die  within  me,  as  if 
something  dreadful  were  about  to  befall 
me.  Our  pause  was  but  momentary  ;  but 
in  that  short  space  of  time,  melhought  I 
lived  a  year. 

"  Forward !  "  whispered  Carson,  solemn 
ly.  "  Each  man  for  himself,  and  God  for 
us  all  !  " 

Scarcely  had  the  sentence  passed  his 
lips,  when,  to  our  astonishment  and  dis 
may,  a  tremendous  volley  rang  on  all  sides 
•>{  us,  and  a  shower  of  bullets  and  arrows 
came  whizzing  through  the  air,  accom 
panied  by  yells  that  made  my  blood  run 
cold  ;  while  on  every  hand  we  beheld  a 
legion  of  dark  figures  suddenly  spring 
from  the  earth,  their  murderous  knives  and 
tomahawks  faintly  gleaming  in  the  dim 


light,  as,  flourishing  them  over  tliei 
and  yelling  their  appalling  war-whoop?, 
they  bore  down  upon  us  in  overwhelming 
numbers.  To  add  to  our  consternation, 
we  heard  the  thundering  tramp  of  a  body 
of  horse,  in  front  and  rear,  rushing  up  te 
join  our  enemies  and  hem  us  in  completely. 

Instead  of  surprising  the  enemy  as  ex 
pected,  we  now  found  ourselves  surprised 
in  turn,  and  drawn  into  a  terrible  ambus 
cade,  from  which  there  seemed  no  chance 
of  escape.  Our  design  had  doubtless  been 
betrayed — but  by  whom  I  had  no  time  for 
conjecture  ;  for  what  between  the  yells  of 
savages — groans  and  curses  from  our 
own  little  band  —  many  of  whom  were 
wounded  and  some  seriously  —  the  rearing 
and  plui.gir.g  of  the  horses,  and  my  desire 
to  do  the  best  I  could  for  myself  and 
friends  —  I  had  no  time  for  speculation. 
Two  of  the  enem}  fs  balls  had  passed 
through  my  hat  —  one  of  tLem  within  an 
inch  of  my  skull  —  and  another  through 
the  sleeves  of  my  frock,  slightly  grazing 
my  arm  ;  but  fortunately  none  had  injured 
myself  nor  horse. 

' '  Riddle  them  —  tear  out  thar  hearts  — 
scalp  and  send  them  to  h — 1  ! "  shouted 
Carson,  in  a  voice  that  rose  distinctly  iibo'ye 
the  din  of  conflict ;  and  wheeling  Ids 
charger,  he  dashed  into  the  thickest  of  the 
fray,  with  that  utter  disregard  to  personal 
safety,  which  Napoleon  once  displayed  at 
the  far-famed  bridge  of  Lodi. 

Determined  to  share  the  fate  of  Kit, 
whatever  it  might  be,  I  called  to  Hunfly 
to  join  me,  and  rushed  my  horse  alongside 
of  his.  Now  it  was  that  I  had  an  oppor 
tunity  of  \vitnessirig  that  coolness  and  in- 
trepiuUy,  those  almost  superhuman  re 
sources  and  exertions,  which,  together  with 
ether  matters,  have  rendered  the  name  of 
Kit  Carson  immortal. 

Discharging  his  rifle  and  pistols  at  the 
first  he  came  to,  Carson  raised  himself  in 
his  stirrups,  and  swinging  the  former  wea 
pon  over  his  head,  with  as  much  apparent 
ease  as  if  a  mere  whisp,  he  brought  it 
down  upon  the  skulls  of  the  duskj  L;td» 
around  him  with  fatal  effect.  Not  less 
than  a  dozen  in  the  space  of  twice  as  many 
seconds  bit  the  dust  beneath  its  weight, 
while  his  horse,  madly  rearing  and  plung 
ing,  trod  down  some  four  or  live  more. 
Still  they  thickened  around  us,  ( for  lluntly 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


and  myself  were  alongside,  imitating  to 
the  best  of  curability  his  noble  example,) 
and  still  that  weapon,  already  reeking  with 
blood,  was  hurled  upon  them  with  the 
same  astonishing  rapidity  and  the  same 
wonderful  success. 

On  every  hand  we  were  hemmed  in,  and 
every  man" among  us  was  fighting  valiantly 
for  his  own  life  and  vengeano  .  There 
was  no  opportunity  for  cowardice — no 
chance  for  flight — retreat  was  cut  off — we 
must  tight  or  die.  All  seemed  to  under 
stand  this,  and  used  superhuman  exertions 
to  overcome  the  foe,  who  fell  before  us  as 
grass  before  the  scythe  of  the  mower  ;  but 
alas  for  us  !  only  to  have  their  places  sup 
plied  by  others  equally  as  blood-thirsty 
and  equally  as  determined  on  our  annihi 
lation  . 

On  all  sides  resounded  hideous  yells, 
and  curses,  and  groans,  and  shouts — min 
gled  with  the  reports  of  firearms,  and  the 
clash  of  deadly  weapons.  Fear  we  knew 
not — at  least  I  judge  by  myself — for  under 
the  intoxicating  excitement  of  the  time,  I 
experienced  no  passion  but  uncontrollable 
rage,  and  a  desire  to  vent  it  upon  our 
swarthy  foe.  Success  so  far  had  been  with 
us,  and"  numbers  of  the  enemy  had  fallen 
to  rise  no  more,  while  all  but  two  of  our 
own  party  were  in  their  saddles,  though 
some  of  them  badly  wounded.  Above  the 
tumult  and  din,  I  could  now  distinguish  the 
voices  uf  Carsonr  the  trappers  and  Teddy, 
showing  that  each  was  doing  his  duty. 

"  Down,  old  paint-face  !  "  cried  one. 

"Take  that,  and  keep  them  company  as 
has  gone  under  afore  ye  !  "  shouted  another. 

"  H-ll's  full  o'  sich  imps  as  you  !  " 
roared  a  third. 

"  To  the  divil  wid  ye  now,  ye  bloody 
oarers  •  for  attacking  honest,  dacent  white 
paples-— ye  murthering  tieves  of  Sathan, 
yees  !  "  yelled  the  excited  Irishman,  as, 
in  all  the  u'lory  of  making  a  shelaleh  of  his 
rille,  he  laid  about  him  right  worthily. 

At  this  moment,  when,  the  foot  began  to 
waver — when  victory  was  almost  ours — up 
thundered  some  thirty  horsemen  to  rein 
force  our  foes,  revive  their  courage,  and 
render  our  case  terribly  desperate,  if  not 
hopeless. 

"At  'em,  boys  !  "  shouted  C-irson,  ap- 
par<  ntly  not  the  least  disheartened  ;  and 
driving  his  spurs  into  his  horse,  dropping 


his  bridle  rein  upon  the  saddle  bow,  hurl 
ing  his  already  broken  and  useless  rille  at 
the  heads  of  the  nearest  Indians,  and  draw 
ing  his  knife  and  tomahawk,  he  charged 
upon  the  new  comers,  seemingly  with  as 
much  confidence  in  his  success  as  if  backed 
by  a  whole  battalion. 

No  wonder  Kit  Carson  was  famous — for 
he  seemed  a  whole  army  of  himself.  A 
bare  glimpse  of  one  of  his  feats  astonished 
me,  and  for  the  moment  almost  made  me 
doubt  my  senses.  Two  powerful  Indians, 
hard  abreast,  weapons  in  hand,  and  well 
mounted,  rushed  upon  him  at  once,  and 
involuntarily  I  uttered  a  cry  of  horror,  for 
I  thought  him  lost.  But  no  !  With  an 
intrepidity  equalled  only  by  his  activity,  a 
weapon  in  either  hand,  he  rushed  his 
horse  between  the  two,  and  dodging  by 
some  unaccountable  means  the  blows  aimed 
at  his  life,  buried  his  knife  in  the  breast  of 
one,  and  at  the  same  moment  his  toma 
hawk  in  the  brain  of  the  other.  One 
frightful  yell  of  rage  and  despair,  and  two 
riderless  steeds  went  dashing  on. 

Side  by  side  with  Huntly,  I  fought  with 
the  desperation  of  a  madman,  and  per 
formed  feats  which  astonished  even  myself. 
Thrice  did  I  find  my  bridle  rein  seized  by 
no  less  than  three  or  four  stalwart  savages, 
and  thought  that  all  was  over ;  but  as 
often  by  some  inexplicable  means,  my  path 
was  cleared,  and  not  a  scratch  upon  my 
person. 

For  ten  minutes  did  the  carnage  rage 
thus,  during  which  time  no  less  than  forty 
of  uar  foes  had  been  killed  or  disabled, 
and  six  of  our  own  gallant  band  had  gone 
from  among  the  living.  Still  the  savages 
pressed  around  us,  and  I  now  found  my 
situation  growing  more  and  more  desper 
ate.  From  over  exertion,  I  began  to  feel 
weak  ;  and  my  gallant  steed,  having  been 
less  fortunate  than  I,  was  already  stagger 
ing  under  his  wounds.  A  few  more  pain 
ful  efforts  to  bear  down  upon  his  foes,  and 
he  reeled,  dropped  upon  his  knees,  tried  to 
recover,  failed,  and  at  last  rolled  over  upon 
his  side  and  expired. 

As  he  went  down,  I  leaped  from  his 
back  to  the  ground,  and  instantly  found 
myself  surrounded  by  savages.  Striking 
right  and  left  with  renewed  activity,  I 
shouted  to  Huntly,  and  in  a  moment 
he  charged  to  my  rescue,  and  by  oar 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


combined  exertions,  we  managed  for  a  mo 
ment  or  two  to  keep  the  foe  at  bay.  But  the 
strength  of  both  of  us  was  failing  rapidly, 
and  already  I  found  myself  bleeding  from 
numerous  flesh  wounds.  A  few  stabs  and 
one  musket  shot  killed  the  horse  of  my 
friend,  \vho  Avas  by  this  means  brought  to 
the  same  desperate  strait  as  myself. 

"  It  is  all  over,  Frank,"  he  groaned,  as 
a  blow  on  the  head  staggered  him  back 
against  mo. 

"  Never  pay  die,"  I  shouted,  as  with  my 
remaining  strength  I  sprang  forward  and 
plunged  my  knife  into  the  breast  of  the 
aggressor,  whose  hatchet  was  already 
raised  for  a  final  and  fatal  stroke. 

Partly  recovering  from  my  lunge,  a 
blow  on  the  back  of  my  neck  brought  me 
to  my  knees  ;  and  before  I  could  regain 
my  feet,  I  saw  another  aimed  at  my  head 
by  a  powerful  Indian,  who  was  standing 
over  me.  At  this  moment,  when  I  thought 
my  time  had  come,  and  "  God  have  mercy 
on  my  soul !  "  was  trembling  on  my  lips, 
Kit  Carson,  like  an  imbodied  spirit  of  bat 
tle,  thundered  past  me  on  his  powerful 
charger,  and  bending  forward  in  his  sad 
dle,  with  a  motion  quick  as  lightning  itself, 
seized  the  scalp  lock  of  my  antagonist  in 
one  hand,  and  with  the  other  completely 
severed  his  head  from  his  body,  which  he 
bore  triumphantly  away.  I  now  sprang 
to  my  feet,  only  to  see  my  friend  struck 
down,  and  be  felled  senseless  to  the  earth 
myself. 


CHAPTE  R    XV. 

CONSCIOUSNESS PAINFUL     SURMISES THE 

MYSTERIOUS  OLD  INDIAN APPEARANCE  OF 

PRAIRIE     FLOWER HER      DEVOTION OUR 

SINGULAR  CONVERSATION  REGARDING  HER 
SELF  AND  TRIBE,  THE  FIGHT,  MY  FRIENDS, 
AND  MANY  OTHER  IMPORTANT  MATTERS. 

WHEN  consciousness  was  again  restored, 
I  found  myself  lying  on  a  pallet  of  skins, 
in  a  small,  rude  cabin,  curiously  construct 
ed  of  sticks,  leaves,  earth  and  a  few  hides 
of  buffalo. 

The  first  sensation  was  one  of  painful 
confusion.  I  felt  much  as  one  does  on 
awaking  from  a  troubled  dream,  without 
being  able  to  recall  a  single  event  con 


nected  with  it,  and  yet  feeling  the  effectj 
of  all  combined.  I  was  aware  that  either 
something  terrible  had  happened,  or  I  had 
dreamed  it;  but  what  that -something  was, 
I  had  not  the  remotest  idea.  The  most  I 
could  bring  to  mind,  was  a  painful  sen 
sation  of  death.  Perhaps  I  was  dead  ? 
Horrible  thought !  I  tried  to  rise,  but 
could  not — could  not  even  lift  my  head 
from  its  rude  pillow.  Ey  great  exertion  I 
raised  one  hand  a  little — but  the  effort 
exhausted  all  my  strength,  and  it  fell  bacb 
heavily,  causing  me  the  most  excruciating 
pain. 

What  did  all  this  mean  ?  Surely  I  was 
not  dead  ! — for  dead  people,  I  thought  to 
myself,  feel  no  suffering.  But  where  was 
I,  and  how  came  I  here,  and  what  was 
my  ailment  ?  And  then — strange  thought 
— who  was  I  ?  Laugh  if  you  will,  reader 
— but  I  had  actually  forgotten  my  own 
name,  ami  for  a  moment  could  not  recall 
a  single  event  of  my  existence.  I  had  a 
confused  idea  of  having  lived  before — of 
having  been  somebody  —  of  having  ex 
perienced  sensations  both  of  pleasure  and 
pain  ;  but  beyond  these,  all  was  blank  and 
dark  as  a  ray  less  night. 

Suddenly  one  remembrance  after  an 
other  began  to  flash  upon  me.  First  my 
youth — my  school -boy  days — my  collegi 
ate  course  ;  and  then,  the  train  once  fired, 
years  and  events  were  passed  with  th« 
velocity  of  thought  itself ;  and  in  one  briel 
moment,  everything,  up  to  the  time  of  my 
fall  in  the  fight,  rose  fresh  in  my  memory. 

But  still  the  mystery  was  as  dark  as 
ever,  and  my  curiosity  as  much  unsatisfied. 
How  had  the  battle  gone  ?  Were  my 
friends  the  victors  ?  But  no  !  that  were 
impossible,  or  I  should  not  be  here.  Had 
they  all  been  killed  or  taken  prisoners  ? 
And  Huntly — my  friend  !  Great  Heaven  ! 
the  very  thought  of  him  made  me  shudder 
with  dread.  Alas!  he  was  dead.  I  knew 
it — I  felt  it.  I  had  seen  him  fall,  and  of 
course  he  could  not  have  escaped.  Poor, 
poor  Charles  Huntly  —  my  bosom  com 
panion — friend  of  my  happier  days  !  The 
very  thought  of  his  untimely  fate — cut  off 
in  the  prime  of  lite — made  me  groan  with 
anguish. 

But  where  was  I,  and  how  came  I  here  ? 
Why  had  I  been  saved  and  not  my  friend  ? 
But  it  might  be  that  he  was  df  .id  ;  whik 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST 


I,  by  showing  signs  of  existence,  had  been 
brought  hither  and  restored  to  life,  only  to 
be  the  victim  of  some  oblation  of  thanks- 
givin<T  to  the  imaginary  deity  who  had 
vouchsafed  the  victory  to  my  foes.  Ay, 
this  was  the  true,  but  horrible  solution  of 
llie  mystery  !  My  friends  were  dead — 
my  foes  had  triumphed  —  and  for  this 
(horrible  thought !)  I  was  about  to  be  the 
sacrifice  of  rejoicing  on  a  heathen  shrine. 

Was  I  alone  ?  I  listened,  but  could 
hear  no  sound  indicating  the  presence  of 
another.  Not  satisfied  with  this,  I  turned 
my  head  slightly,  as  much  as  my  strength 
would  permit,  and  in  the  center  of  the 
lodge,  squatted  on  the  ground,  over  a 
small  fire,  with  a  long  pipe  in  his  mouth,  I 
beheld  a  little,  old,  dried  up  man,  whom, 
but  for  now  and  then  a  slight  motion,  I 
might  have  taken  for  a  heap  of  clay  or  a 
crumbled  up  Egyptian  mummy — so  much 
did  the  skins  worn  around  his  body,  and 
his  own  shrivelled  and  livid  flesh  resemble 
either. 

Drawing  in  the  smoke  a  couple  of  times, 
and  puffing  it  out  to  the  right  and  left,  he 
arose  and  shuffled  toward  me.  Curious  to 
learn  the  object  of  such  a  visit,  I  thought 
it  best  to  feign  unconsciousness.  Accord 
ingly  shutting  my  eyes,  but  not  so  as  to 
prevent  my  seeing  him,  I  lay  and  watched 
his  motions. 

He  was  a  miserable  and  loathsome  look 
ing  being,  the  very  sight  of  whom  sick 
ened  and  disgusted  me,  particularly  as  I 
fancied  him  my  surgeon  and  jailor,  who 
would  heal  my  wounds,  only  to  pass  me 
over  to  the  executioner.  In  bight  he 
could  not  have  exceeded  five  feet  even  in 
his  palmiest  days,  and  this  was  now  much 
reduced  by  age  and  debility.  He  was 
thin  and  skinny,  and  his  small,  puekered- 
ap  visage  bore  the  complicated  autograph 
of  a  century.  His  head  was  bald,  save  a 
few  white  hairs  on  the  cro\vn,  where  had 
once  been  his  scalp  lock  ;  hi.s  nose  and 
chin  almost  met  over  his  toothless  gums  ; 
and,  to  romplete,  his  trembling  limbs  and 
tottering  frame  exhibited  a  striking  resem 
blance  to  the  bony  picture  of  death.  Only 
one  feature  about  him  gave  evidence  of  his 
being  more  than  a  mere  walking  automa- 
H>n  ;  and  that  was  his  keen,  eagle  eye, 
rhose  luster,  apparently  undimmed  by 
fetus,  still  flashed  forth  the  unconsumed 


fires  of  what  had  once  been  a  might  j  soul, 
either  for  good  or  evil. 

As  he  approached,  he  fastened  his  sharp 
eyes  upon  me  with  such  intensity,  that  in 
voluntarily  I  let  mine  drop  to  the  ground, 
lest  he  should  detect  the  feint.  When  1 
raised  them  again,  I  found  him  occupied 
with  some  mysterious  ceremony,  probably 
an  incantation  to  lay  the  wrath  or  solicit 
the  aid  of  some  imaginary  spirit. 

Taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  he  blew 
a  volume  of  smoke  in  a  certain  direction, 
toward  which  he  pointed  the  stem  of  his 
pipe.  This  was  done  to  the  four  cardinal 
points  of  compass,  and  then  a  volume 
was  blown  upward  and  another  downward, 
after  which  he  bent  over  me  and  went 
through  a  series  of  mysterious  signs. — 
Then  taking  one  of  my  hands  in  his,  he 
felt  my  pulse,  during  which  operation  I 
could  perceive  his  face  brighten  with  an 
expression  of  internal  satisfaction.  Then 
his  bony  fingers,  were  pressed  upon  my 
forehead  and  temples,  and  a  single  "  Onh- 
chi,"  which  I  interpreted  from  his  manner 
to  mean  "  Good/'  escaped  his  livid  lips. 

Thinking  longer  deception  unnecessary, 
I  opened  wide  my  eyes  and  said  : 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  Cha-cha-chee-kee-hobah,"  was  the 
answer. 

Then  straightening  himself  as  much  as 
age  would  permit,  he  placed  his  pipe 
again  in  his  mouth,  and  turning  his  face 
toward  the  door  of  the  hut,  struck  the 
palms  of  his  hands  three  times  together, 
and  uttered  in  a  cracked  voice  the  single 
word  : 

"  Leni !  " 

Wondering  what  all  this  meant,  I  turned 
my  eyes  in  the  same  direction,  and  tba 
next  moment,  to  my  astonishment,  beheld 
the  beautiful  form  of  the  mysterious  Prai 
rie  Flower  enter  from  without. 

With  a  light,  quick  tread,  her  face  flushed 
with  animation  and  joy,  she  glided  up  to 
the  decrepid  old  Indian,  and  in  a  silvery 
voice,  such  as  one  might  expect  from  so 
lovely  a  creature,  said  a  few  words  and  re 
ceived  a  reply  in  a  language  to  me  wholly 
unintelligible.  Then  springing  to  me,  she 
kneeled  at  my  side,  and  turning  her  eye* 
upward,  hor  sweet  lips  seamed  moving  to 
an  earnest  prayer  from  a  guileless  heart. 

I  no  longer  had  fears  for  my  safety — . 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


for  in  such  a  presence  and  with  such  an 
act  of  devotion,  I  knew  myself  safe.  I  was 
only  afraid  to  speak  or  move,  lest  I  should 
wake  to  find  it  all  a  delusive  dream. 

But  my  desire  to  be  assured  of  its  re 
ality  would  not  long  let  me  remain  silent, 
and  at  last  I  said  : 

"  Sweet  being,  tell  me  the  meaning  of 
all  I  see." 

"  Friend,  you  must  not  talk,"  she  replied 
in  good  English  ;  "  it  will  do  you  harm." 

"  Nevertheless,  fair  creature,  you  must 
answer  my  question.  My  curiosity  is  won 
derfully  excited,  and  silence  will  harm  me 
more  than  conversation." 

She  turned  and  addressed  a  few  words 
to  the  old  man,  who  now  approached  her 
side  and  gazed  down  upon  me  with  a  mild 
look.  His  reply  was  apparently  satisfac 
tory  ;  for  looking  full  upon  me  again,  she 
said: 

"You  may  be  right,  and  I  will  answer. 
You  were  badly  wounde4  in  the  fight." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that." 

"  You  were  left  upon  the  ground  for 
dead." 

"  Ha  !  indeed  I  But  the  battle — who 
won  ?" 

"  Your  friends  were  victorious." 

"  Surprising  !  What  lucky  chance  of 
fortune  gave  them  the  victory  ?  " 

"  A  reinforcement." 

"  Indeed  !  from  where  ?  " 

"  Fort  John." 

This  fort,  now  demolished,  stood  at  the 
time  of  which  I  write  about  a  mile  below 
Fort  Laramie,  and  was  well  garrisoned. 
From  a  mistaken  confidence  in  our  own 
abilities  to  win  the  day,  we  had  neglected 
calling  there  for  volunteers  to  augment 
our  numbers  and  render  our  success  more 
certain. 

"  And  what  brought  them  to  our  aid  so 
opportunely  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Certain  timely  information." 

"  By  whom  conveyed  ?  " 

"  A  friend  to  your  race." 

"  By  the  same  messenger  that  brought 
intelligence  of  the  enemy  to  Fort  Lara 
mie  ?  " 

"  It  matters  not  by  whom.  Let  the  re 
sult  suffice." 

"  How  shall  I  thank  you,  sweet  Prairie 
Flower?" 

•'For  what?" 


"  For  all  that  you  have  done." 

"  I  need  no  thanks." 

"  0  say  not  thus." 

"  Then  thank  me  by  your  silenqg," 

"  I  will ;  and  by  my  prayers  for  yo«r 
safety  and  happiness." 

"  Bless  you  !  "  she  exclaime  1,  fei  v<  ntljr 
"  The  only  boon  I  would  have  asked,  saw 
one." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  That  you  will  not  seek  to  kncT  :noi« 
of  me  and  my  history  than  I  may  choose 
to  tell ;  and. that  whatever  you  may  see  and 
hear  that  seems  mysterious,  you  will  reveal 
to  none  without  my  permission." 

"  To  please  sweet  Prairie  Flower,"  I 
answered,  "  I  will  strive  not  to  be  a  med 
dler  nor  a  babbler  ;  though  she  must  bear 
in  mind  where  so  much  interest  is  excited, 
the  task  she  has  imposed  is  a  hard  one." 

"  Then  by  adhering  to  it,  you  will  con 
fer  upon  her  the  deeper  obligation." 

"  Yet  I  cannot  forbear  one  question." 

"Well?" 

"  Is  Prairie  Flower  not  of  my  race?" 

"  The  judgment  of  the  querist  musf 
answer  him." 

"Will  not  you?" 

"  Not  now — perhaps  nevt,r." 

"  I  regret  your  decision,  yet  will  not 
press  the  point.  But  to  return  to  the  bat 
tle." 

"What  would  you  know?" 

"  How  it  was  won — how  I  came  to  b« 
neglected — and  why  I  am  here." 

"A  reinforcement  charging  suddenly 
upon  the  enemy,  alarmed  and  put  him  to 
flight.  The  victors  pressed  upon  his  rear, 
and  left  their  killed  and  wounded  upon  the 
gory  field.  Before  they  returned,  a  few 
who  beheld,  but  did  not  join  the  fight, 
found  you  and  another  in  whom  life  was 
not  yet  extinct,  and  bore  you  both  away." 

"And  —  and  —  that  other  ?  "  I  gasped. 
"  Was  —  was  it  —  my  friend  ?  " 

"  None  other." 

"And  he — he — is — alive?" 

"Ay,  and  doing  well." 

"  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !  A.  weight 
of  grief  is  lifted  from  my  heart.  Bui 
where — 0,  tell  me  quickly — where-  Is  b« 
now  ?  " 

"  Not  far  hence." 

"And  all  is  owing  to  you  ?  " 

"Nay,  I  said  not  that." 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    *AR    WEST. 


"  God  bless  you  for  an  angel  of  mercy  ! 
I  must  thank  you — my  heart  is  bursting 
witk  gratitude! " 

"  Nay,  spare  your  thanks  to  mortal  ! 
Thank  God — not  me — for  I  am  only  an 
humble  instrument  in  his  hands." 

"  Mysterious  being,  who  art  thou?  " 

"  lie-member  your  promise  and  question 
not." 

"But  you  seem  more  of  Heaven  than 
earth." 

"  It  is  only  seeming  then.  But  I  must 
remind  you  that  you  have  now  talked  full 
long." 

"  Nay,  but  tell  me  where  I  am  ?  " 

"  In  the  lodge  of  Cha-cha-chee-kee-ho- 
bah,  or  Old-Man-of-the-Mountains." 

"  Is  it  he  that  stands  beside  you  ?" 

"  The  same.  He  is  '  Great  Medicine,' 
and  has  cured  you." 

"And  how  long  have  I  been  here  ?  " 

"  Four  days." 

"  Good  heavens  !  you  astonish  me  ! — 
Surely  not  four  days?" 

"  Prairie  Flower  would  not  tell  you 
wrong*"  said  my  informant,  with  a  re 
proachful  look. 

"  I  know  it,  sweet  being.  I  will  not 
doubt  you — and  only  intended  to  express 
surprise.  Then  I  have  been  four  days 
•nconscious." 

"Ay,  a  week." 

"A  week?"  I  exclaimed,  looking  her 
earnestly  in  the  face:  "A  week,  say  you  ? 
A-iul  was  the  battle  fought  a  week  ago  ?  " 

"  It  was — a  week  ago  last  night." 

"And  pray  in  what  part  of  the  country 
am  I  now  ?  " 

"  On  the  Black  Hills." 

"Indeed!  And  how  far  from  Fort 
Laramie  ?  " 

"  Not  less  than  sixty  miles." 

"And  how  was  I  borne  here  ?  " 

"  On  a  litter." 

"  By  whom  ?  " 

"  My  friends." 

"White  men  or  red?" 

"The  latter." 

"And  for  what  purpose  ?  " 

"  To  restore  you  to  health." 

"And  what  object  could  you  or  they  have 
in  bestowing  such  kindness  on  strangers  ?  " 

"  To  do  good." 

"  For  which  of  course  you  expect  a 
recompense  ? ' ' 


Prairie  Flower  looked  at  me  earnestly 
a  moment,  with  a  sweet,  sad,  reproachful 
expression,  and  then  said  with  a  sigh  : 

"Like  the  rest  of  the  world,  you  mis 
construe  our  motives." 

"Forgive  me!"  I  exclaimed,  almost 
passionately  —  for  her  appearance  and 
words  touched  my  very  soul :  "  Forgive 
me,  sweet  being !  I  was  wrong,  I  see. 
On  your  part  it  was  solely  charity  that 
prompted  this  noble  act.  But  it  is  so  rare 
that  even  a  good  action  is  done  in  this 
world  without  a  selfish  motive,  that,  in  the 
thoughtlessness  of  the  moment,  I  even 
imputed  the  latter  to  you." 

"  That  is  why  I  suppose  so  few  under 
stand  us  ?  "  she  said,  sadly. 

"  You  must  be  a  very  singular  people," 
I  rejoined,  looking  her  full  in  the  eye. 
"  Will  you  not  tell  me  the  name  of  your 
tribe?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  told  you  before,"  she  answered, 
"  you  must  not  question  me  touching  my 
history  or  tribe.  Let  it  suffice  that  we  are 
known  as  the  Mysterious  or  Great  Medi 
cine  Nation ;  that  to  us  all  roads  are  free, 
and  with  us  all  nations  are  at  peace.  We 
war  upon  none  and  none  upon  us." 

"And  yet  do  you  not  excite  others  to 
deeds  you  seem  to  abhor  ?  " 

"  What  mean  you  ?  "  she  asked  quickly, 
a  flush  of  surprise  giving  a  beautiful  glow 
to  her  noble  features. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  speak  too  plainly. 
But  was  not  your  message  to  Forl  Larar 
mie  the  cause  of  a  bloody  battle  between 
the  whites  and  Indians  at  Bitter  Cotton- 
wood  ?  " 

"  The  immediate  cause  of  warrior  meet 
ing  warrior  in  the  game  of  death,  most 
undoubtedly,"  she  answered,  with  a  proud 
look  and  sparkling  eyes.  "  But  do  you 
not  'overlook  the  fact,  that  it  was  done  to 
save  the  innocent  and  defenceless  ?  Were 
not  the  Indians  gathered  there  in  mighty 
force  to  prey  upon  the  weak  ?  and  was  it 
not  the  duty  of  those  who  sought  to  d* 
right  to  warn  the  few  against  the  many — 
the  unwary  of  their,  hidden  foe  ?  Could 
Prairie  Flow-er  stand  idly  by  and  see  de* 
fenceless  women  and  children  drawn  into 
a  fatal  snare,  and  made  a  bloody  sacrifice 
to  a  heartless  enemy  ?  Had  the  pale- face 
so  laid  in  wait  for  the  red-man,  Prairie 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


Flower,  if  in  her  power,  had  so  warned  the 
latter.  Prairie  Flower  did  not  call  the  red- 
man  there  ;  she  regretted  to  see  him  there  ; 
but  being  there,  she  could  do  no  less  than 
warn  and  put  the  pale-face  on  his  guard." 

This  was  said  with  .such  a  proud  look  of 
conscious  rectitude — an  expression  so  sub 
lime,  and  an  eloquence  so  pathetic — that  I 
could  hardly  realize  I  was  gazing  upon 
and  listening  to  an  earthly  habitant.  I 
felt  ashamed  of  my  ungallant  and  unjust 
insinuation,  and  hastened  to  reply  : 

"  Forgive  me,  sweet  Prairie  Flower,  for 
having  again  wronged  you — for  having 
again  done  you  injustice  !  But,  as  before, 
I  overlooked  the  motive  in  the  act.  1  will 
strive  not  to  offend  again  and  wound  your 
sensitive  feelings  by  doubting  your  gener 
ous  intentions.  Are  there  many  more  like 
you,  sweet  Prairie  Flower  ?  " 

"  Our  tribe  numbers  between  sixty  and 
seventy  souls." 

"Is  this  your  fixed  abiding  place  ?  " 

"  Only  for  a  time.  Our  home  is  every 
where  between  the  rising  and  the  setting 
sun.  We  go  wherever  we  think  ourselves 
the  most  beneficial  in  effecting  good." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  Christian  missiona 
ries  ?" 

"  We  believe  in  the  holy  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  endeavor  to  inculcate  its  doc 
trines." 

"  Why  then  did  this  old  man  use  mys 
terious  signs  ?  " 

"  He  is  of  another  race  and  generation, 
was  once  a  great  medicine  in  his  tribe,  and 
cannot  divest  himself  of  old  habits." 

"  You  seem  rightly  named  the  Mysteri 
ous  Tribe  ;  and  of  you  in  particular  I  have 
heard  before." 
'    "  Indeed  !     When  and  how  ?  " 

I  proceeded  to  detail  briefly  the  story 
of  the  old  trapper. 

She  mused  a  moment  and  replied  : 

"  I  remember  such  a  person  now,  me- 
tbinks.  He  was  found,  as  you  say,  with 
life  nearly  extinct.  By  careful  nursing  he 
'Was  restored  to  health.  But  he  seemed 
inquisitive,  and  I  employed  the  ruse  of 
telling  him  his  life  was  in  danger  to  hurry 
his  departure,  lest  he  might  prove  trouble 
some.  I  trust  there  was  nothing  wrong  in 
that.  But  come,  come,  I  have  forgotten 
my  own  caution,  and  talked  too  long  by 
far.  You  need  repose  and  silence/' 


"  But  one  thing  more  !     My  friend  ?  " 

"  You  shall  see  him  soon — perhaps  to 
morrow." 

"  0,  no  !  say  to-day  !" 

"  I  cannot.  To-morrow  is  the  eatlieo* 
And  so  adieu  !  Seek  repose  and  forget 
fulness  in  sleep." 

With  this  she  turned,  and  glided  out  of 
the  apartment  in  the  same  noiseless  man 
ner  she  had  entered  it.  The  old  man  look 
ed  at  me  a  moment — shook  his  head  and 
trembling  hands — turned — shuffled  away 
to  his  fire — and  I  was  left  alone  to  reflect 
on  what  I  had  seen  and  heard  and  my  pre 
sent  condition. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

SICK-BED  REFLECTIONS GREAT    MEDICINH 

REAPPEARANCE  OF  PRAIRIE   FLOWER OUB 

CONVERSATION GRATITUDE MT  WOUNDS 

HER  SUDDEN  EMBARRASSMENT DEPAR 
TURE,    ETC. 

• 

IT  is  a  painful  thing  to  one  who  has  nev 
er  known  sickness,  to  be  confined  day  aftei 
day  to  his  bed,  racked  with  torture,  debar 
red  even  the  liberty  of  enjoying  for  a  mo 
ment  the  bright  sunshine  and  clear  air  of 
heaven,  unable  perhaps  to  lift  his  head 
from  his  pillow,  and  yet  beholding  others, 
flushed  with  health  and  happiness,  coming 
and  going  as  they  please,  and  seeming  to 
prize  lightly  all  which  he  most  covets.  Il 
is  only  on  a  bed  of  sickness  and  pain,  thai 
we  are  taught  to  value  as  we  should  thai 
greatest  of  all  blessings,  good  health — 9 
blessing  without  which  all  others  are  rob 
bed  of  their  pleasures  :  for  what  are  for 
tune  and  friends  and  all  their  concomitants, 
to  one  who  is  borne  down  by  a  weight  of 
bodily  suffering  ?  True,  these  may  in  a 
measure  minister  to  his  comforts — for  with 
out  money  and  friends,  the  sick  bed  is  only 
a  pallet  of  the  most  abject  misery — yet  all 
the  joys  arising  therefrom  in  connection 
with  health,  are  lost  to  the  invalid  ;  and  he 
lays,  and  sighs,  and  groans,  and  envies  the 
veriest  strolling  mendicant  on  earth  tbe 
enjoyment  of  his  strength  and  liberty. 

Such  were  my  thoughts,  as  hour  after 
hour,  from  the  disappearance  of  Prairie 
Flower,  I  lay  and  mused  upon  all  the 
events  of  my  chequered  life,  up  to  tb« 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


69 


present  time.  Born  to  wealth,  blessed 
with  health,  kind  friends,  and  a  college  ed 
ucation,  I  might  have  passed  my  whole 
life  in  "luxurious  ease,  but  for  the  restless 
desire  of  travel  and  adventure.  Not  a  dis 
comfort  had  I  ever  known  ere  my  depart 
ure  from  the  paternal  roof;  and  when  I 
remembered,  that  now  I  was  thousands  of 
miles  away,  in  an  Indian  camp  of  the  wil 
derness,  wounded  nigh  nnto  death,  unable 
to  rise  from  my  pallet,  solely  dependent 
upon  strangers  of  a  savage  race  for  my 
existence  and  the  few  favors  I  received, 
perhaps  rendered  a  cripple  or  an  invalid 
for  life,  and  reflected  on  how  much  I  had 
sacrificed  for  this — my  feelings  may  be 
better  imagined  than  described. 

To  what  extent  I  was  wounded  I  knew 
not — for  I  had  neglected  to  question  Prai 
rie  Flower  on  the  subject — and  I  was  now 
too  weak  to  make  the  examination  myself. 
My  head,  one  of  my  arms,  and  both  of 
my  lower  limbs  were  bandaged  in  a  rude 
way,  and  my  weakness  had  doubtless  been 
caused  by  excessive  hemorrhage.  From 
the  manner  of  Prairie  Flower  and  the  old 
Indian,  I  was  led  to  infer  that  the  crisis  of 
danger  was  past ;  but  how  long  it  would 
take  me  to  recover,  I  had  no  means  of  as 
certaining,  or  whether  I  should  be  again 
blessed  with  C\ie  use  of  my  limbs.  Per 
haps  I  might  here  be  confined  for  months, 
and  then  only  regain  my  wonted  strength 
to  find  myself  a  cripple  for  life. 

These  thoughts  pained  and  alarmed 
me,  and  I  looked  eagerly  for  the  return 
of  Prairie  Flower,  to  gain  the  desired 
information.  But  she  came  not;  and 
through  sheer  exhaustion,  I  was  at  last 
forced  to  drop  the  subject,  while  I  strove 
to  resign  myself  to  such  fate  as  He,  who 
had  preserved  my  existence  as  it  were  by 
a  miracle,  should,  in  his  wise  dispensation, 
see  proper  to  decree. 

Then  my  thoughts  turned  upon  Prairie 
Flower.  What  mystery  was  shrouding 
this  singular  and  angelic  being,  that  she 
feared  to  be  questioned  regarding  her  his 
tory  and  tribe  ?  Was  she  of  the  Indian 
race  ?  I  could  not  believe  it.  She  seem 
ed  too  fair  and  lovely,  and  without  the 
lineaments  which  distinguish  this  people 
from  those  nations  entitled  to  the  name  of 
pale-face.  Might  she  not  be  a  missionary, 
who,  blessed  with  great  self-denial  and  a 


desire  to  render  herself  useful  while  on 
earth,  and  yet  too  modest  to  avow  it,  had, 
at  a  tender  age,  gone  boldly  among  the 
savages  and  labored  zealously  in  her  noble 
calling,  to  enlighten  their  dark  minds  and 
teach  them  the  sacred  truths  of  Christiani 
ty  ?  She  had  admitted  that  all  believed  in 
the  doctrines  preached  by  the  Saviour;  ana 
though  she  had  not  openly  acknowledged, 
she  certainly  had  not  denied,  my  imputa 
tion  regarding  the  calling  of  herself  and 
friends.  This,  then,  was  the  best  solution 
of  the  mystery  I  could  invent.  But  even 
admitting  this  to  be  true — that  she  was  in 
reality  of  the  Anglo-American  race,  and  a 
pious  instructor  who  found  her  enjoyments 
in  what  to  others  would  have  been  a  source 
of  misery — still  it  was  a  matter  for  curious 
research,  how  one  of  her  age  should  have 
become  so  familiar  with  the  language  and 
habits  of  all  the  various  tribes  of  the  Far 
West — and  why,  if  she  had  friends,  she 
had  been  permitted  to  venture  among  them 
alone  and  at  the  risk  of  her  life.  View 
the  matter  as  I  would,  I  found  it  ever 
shrouded  with  a  vail  of  mystery  and  ro 
mance,  beyond  which  all  my  speculations 
were  unable  to  penetrate. 

Thus  I  lay  and  pondered  for  several 
hours,  during  which  time  I  saw  not  a  liv 
ing  soul — the  old  Indian  excepted — who, 
having  finished  his  pipe,  sat  doubled  up  on 
the  ground  by  his  smouldering  fire,  as  mo 
tionless  and  apparently  as  inanimate  as  so 
much  lead.  Once,  and  only  once,  he  raised 
his  head,  peered  curiously  around  him  for 
a  moment,  and  then  settled  down  into  the 
previous  position.  Fixing  my  gaze  upon 
him,  and  wondering  what  secrets  of  the 
past  and  his  own  eventful  life  might  per 
chance  be  locked  in  his  aged  breast,  I  at 
last  felt  my  eyes  grow  heavy,  the  old  man 
grew  less  and  less  distinct,  and  seemed  to 
nod  and  swim  before  my  vision,  sometimes 
single  and  sometimes  double,  and  then  all 
became  confused,  and  I  went  off  into  a 
gentle  sleep. 

How  long  I  slept  I  am  unable  to  say ; 
but  an  acute  sense  of  pain  awoke  me ; 
when,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  it  already 
dark,  and  the  old  man  bending^over  me, en 
gaged  in  dressing  my  wounds, and  applying 
a  kind  of  whitish  liniment  of  a  soothing  and 
healing  nature,  prepared  by  himself  and 
kept  oil  hand  for  such  and  similar  purpose*. 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


Some  half  an  hour  was  he  occupied  in 
this  proceeding,  during  which  I  suffered 
more  or  less  pain  from  the  removal  of  the 
bandages,  which,  having  become  dry  and 
stiff,  adhered  rather  too  closely  to  the  af 
fected  parts. 

Thinking  it  useless  to  question  him,  I 
made  no  remark,  but  passively  suffered 
him  to  do  as  he  pleased — which  he  did, 
without  appearing  to  notice  me  any  more 
than  it'  I  were  dead,  and  he  performing 
the  last  office  of  sepulture. 

At  length,  the  bandages  being  replaced, 
and  my  condition  rendered  as  comfortable 
as  circumstances  would  permit,  he  ten 
dered  me  some  light  food  and  water — 
both  of  which  I  partook  sparingly — and 
with  the  single  word  "Onh-chi,"  and  a 
nod  of  his  head,  turned  away  and  left  me 
to  my  meditations.  In  ten  minutes  I  was 
again  asleep. 

When  I  next  awoke,  the  sun  was  stream 
ing  through  the  open  doorway  and  crevi 
ces  of  the  old  cabin,  and,  to  my  surprise, 
I  found  Prairie  Flower  again  kneeling  by 
my  side.  Her  eyes  were  turned  upward 
as  before,  and  her  lips  moved,  but  not  a 
sound  issued  from  them.  She  was  evi 
dently  making  a  silent  appeal  to  Heaven 
in  my  behalf ;  and  as  I  lay  and  gazed  upon 
her  sweet,  placid  countenance,  and  felt 
that  all  this  was  for  me,  me  thought  I  had 
never  beheld  a  being  so  lovely  ;  and  she 
seemed  rather  an  immortal  seraph,  bent 
at  the  Throne  of  Grace,  than  a  mortal 
tenant  of  this  mundane  sphere. 

At  length  she  arose,  and  with  a  charm 
ing  smile  upon  her  features,  and  in  the 
sweetest  tone  imaginable,  said  : 

"  And  how  fare  you  this  morning,  my 
friend  ?" 

"  I  feel  much  refreshed,"  I  answered, 
'•by  a  night  of  calm  repose — and  my 
btrength  is  evidently  improving." 

"  1  am  glad  to  hear  it — for  you  have 
been  nigh  unto  death." 

"  I  am  aware  of  it,  and  know  not  how 
lo  express  to  you  rny  deep  obligations  for 
my  recovery." 

"  As  I  told  you  before,  no  thanks  are 
due  me.  I  did  but  my  duty,  and  my  own 
conscience  has  already  rewarded  me  ten 
fold.  Those  who  labor  to  effect  all  the 
good  they  can,  need  no  thanks  expressed 
in  words — for  words  are  superfluous." 


"  And  yet  had  I  done  for  you  what  yov 
have  done  for  me,  would  you  not  have 
thanked  me  ?  " 

"  Doubtless  I  should." 

"  And  will  you  not  allow  me  the  privi 
lege  you  would  have  claimed  yourself! 
Would  it  have  pleased  you  to  find  me 
ungrateful  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say  it  would,"  she  replied, 
musingly;  "for,  like  others,  I  am  only 
mortal ;  and  perhaps  vain — too  vain — of 
having  what  little  I  do  appreciated.  I 
should  not  have  such  feelings,  I  am  well 
aware  ;  but  they  are  engrafted  in  my  na 
ture,  and  I  cannot  help  it." 

"  Then  even  oral  thanks  cannot  be  dis 
pleasing  to  sweet  Prairie  Flower  ?  " 

"  Understand  me,  friend  !  There  is  a 
vast  difference  between  expressing  thanks 
by  word  of  mouth,  and  being  ungrateful. 
That  you  are  not  ungrateful,  your  look 
and  actions  tell — therefore  are  words  su 
perfluous. 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  say  no  more — but 
trust  that  time  will  give  me  an  opportunity 
of  proving  by  acts,  what  at  best  could  he 
but  feebly  spoken.  I  agree  with  you,  that 
words  in  a  case  like  mine  are  of  little  im 
portance.  They  are  in  fact '  trifles  light  AS 
air,'  and  as  often  proceed  from  the  lips 
merely,  as  from  the  heart.  But  now  a 
word  of  myself.  Tell  me,  fair  being,  and 
do  not  fear  to  speak  plainly  regarding  my 
present  condition.  Can  I  ever  recover  ?  " 

"  Great  Medicine  has  pronounced  you 
out  of  danger." 

"  Shall  I  ever  regain  the  full  use  of  ail 
my  limbs  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  to  the  contrary." 

"  And  my  wounds — what  are  they  ?  " 

"  You  were  found  with  your  head  fright 
fully  gashed,  and  your  skull  slightly  frac 
tured.  Your  left  arm  was  broken,  and  the 
flesh  around  it  badly  bruised,  apparently 
by  the  tread  of  a  horse.  Various  other 
flesh  wounds  were  found  upon  your  per 
son —  made,  seemingly,  by  some  sharp  in 
strument —  from  which  you  bled  profusely. 
These,  together  with  loss  of  blood,  pro 
duced  a  delirious  fever,  from  which  kind 
Providence  has  restored  you,  as  it  were  by 
a  miracle.  For  a  week,  life  and  death 
contended  equally  as  it  seemed  for  the 
victory.  Many  a  time  have  I  stood  by 
your  side,  and  thought  every  breath  you 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST. 


71 


Jrew  your  last      I  can  only  compare  yuur  | 
critical  condition  to  a  person  suspended  by  | 
a  mere  c.ord  over  a  terrible  abyss,  with  a 
strain  upon  it  so  equal  to  its  strength  that 
another  pound  would  divide  it  and  render 
death   certain,    and   there   hanging  seven  I 
days  and  nights,  ere  a  safe  footing  could 
be  effected  on  the  solid  earth  above." 

"  You  draw  a  fearful   picture,   Prairie 
Flower.     But  my  friend  —  did  he  know  of  I 
this  ?  " 

"Not  fully.  He  knew  you  were  badly 
wounded —  but  we  gave  him  all  the  hope 
we  could,  lest,  with  his  own  wounds,  the 
excitement  should  prove  fatal  to  him  also. 
As  it  was,  he  was  often  delirious,  and  raved 
of  you,  and  accused  himself  of  dragging 
you  hither  and  being  the  cause  of  your 
misery,  perhaps  death.  Had  we  informed 
him  you  were  dead,  I  do  not  think  he 
would  have  survived  an  hour." 

"God  bless  him  for  a  noble  fellow  —  a 
true  friend  '  "  I  cried,  while  tears  of  affec 
tion  flooded  my  eyes. 

As  I  spoke,  I  noticed  the  countenance 
of  Prairie  Flower  become  suddenly  crim 
son,  p.nd  then  white  as  marble,  while  she 
averted  her  head  and  seemed  uncommonly 
affected.  What  all  this  meant,  I  was  at  a 
loss  to  conjecture.  In  fact  I  did  not  give 
it  much  thought,  for  my  mind  was  filled 
with  the  image  of  Charles  Huntly,  and  I 
quickly  added : 

"  Is  he  not  a  noble  friend,  sweet  Prairie 
Flower  ?  " 

"  He  is  indeed  !  "  she  exclaimed,  looking 
at  me  earnestly  a  moment,  as  if  to  detect 
a  hidden  meaning  in  myiwords,  and  then 
dropping  her  eyes  modestly  to  the  ground. 

"  But  his  wounds  ?  " 

"  Like  yourself,  he  received  two  very 
se/ere  contusions  on  the  head,  which  ren 
dered  him  senseless  for  several  hours." 

"  And  how  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  He  has  so  far  recovered  that  he  leaves 
his  lodge,  and  occasionally  takes  a  short 
stroll." 

"  And  has  he  not  been  to  see  me  ?  " 

"No!  we  would  not  permit  him." 

"  And  how  did  a  refusal  affect  him  ?  " 

"  Quite  seriously.     But  we  told  him  that 


your  life,  in  a  great  measure,  depended  on 
your  being  kept  perfectly  quiet,  and  that 
as  soon  as  he  could  do  so  with  safety,  he 
should  be  admitted  to  your  presence.  He 
seemed  to  grieve  very  much,  but  uttered 
no  complaints." 

"But  you  must  let  me  see  him  now, 
Prairie  Flower !" 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  answered:  "I 
will  consult  Great  Medicine." 

"But,  Prairie  Flower  !  "  I  called  as  she 
turned  away. 

"Well?" 

"  Remember,  I  must  see  him  !  " 

"  But  surely  you  would  not  endanger 
your  life  and  his  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  But  do  you  think  such 
would  be  the  effect  of  our  meeting  ?  " 

"  I  am  unable  to  say,  and  that  is  why  I 
wish  to  consult  Cha-cha-chee-kee-hobah. 
— or,  as  we  often  term  him,  Great  Medi 
cine." 

"  Go,  then,  and  Heaven  send  I  get  a 
favorable  answer." 

Prairie  Flower  turned  away,  and  ap 
proaching  the  Old-Man-of-the-Mountnins. 
held  with  him  a  short  consultation.  Then 
returning  to  me,  she  said  : 

"Great  Medicine  thinks  it  imprudent; 
but  if  you  insist  on  it,  he  says  you  may 
meet;  but  at  the  same  time  he  bids  me 
warn  you  both  to  be  cautious  and  not  be 
come  too  much  excited,  or  the  worst  of 
consequences  may  follow." 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  be  calm,  and  se« 
no  cause  why  I  should  be  more  than  ordi 
narily  excited." 

"  You  perhaps  overlook,  my  friend,  that 
a  great  change  has  taken  place  in  the  ap 
pearance  of  each  of  you  since  last  you 
met ;  and  your  system  being  in  a  feeble 
state,  a  sight  of  your  friend  may  affect 
you  more  than  you  are  now  aware  of. 
The  greatest  change,  however,  is  in  your 
self;  and  I  must  prepare  your  friend  to 
behold  in  you  a  far  different  person  than 
he  beheld  on  the  night  of  the  battle.  I 
charge  you  beforehand,  to  brace  your 
nerves  and  meet  him  calmly  !  " 

Saying  this,  she  turned  and  quitted  tin 
hovel. 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR, 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

VISIT  OF  MY  FRIEND HIS   CHANGED  APPEAR 
ANCE  SINGULAR     MANNER     OF     PRAIRIE 

FLOWER HER  ABRUPT    DEPARTURE HER 

RESEMBLANCE  TO  ANOTHER OUR  SURMISKS 

HER MY    FRIEND    IN    LOVE, 


REGARDING 

ETC. 


HALF  an  hour  of  the  most  anxious  sus 
pense  followed  the  disappearance  of  Prai 
rie  Flower,  during  which,  in  spite -of  my 
self,  I  suffered  the  most  intense  mental 
excitement,  and  my  hands  shook  like  the 
quaking  aspen,  and  I  felt  both  sick  and 
faint.  At  the  end  of  die  time  mentioned, 
Piairie  Flower  appeared  and  announced 
that  my  friend  would  shortly  be  with  me. 

"But  you  seem  agitated,"  she  added, 
with  an  expression  of  alarm. 

"0,  no — mere  nothing,  I  assure  you," 
I  quickly  replied,  fearful  she  would  alter 
her  arrangement  and  put  off  our  meeting 
to  another  day.  "  My  hand  shakes  a  little 
perhaps — but  you  see,  Prairie  Flower,  I 
am  quite  composed — quite  collected,  in 
deed." 

She  shook  her  head  doubtingly,  and 
was  about  to  reply,  when  Huntly  made  his 
appearance,  and  approached  me  with  a 
feeble  step. 

Heavens  !  what  a  change  in  sooth  !  A 
wild  exclamation  of  alarm  and  surprise 
was  already  trembling  on  my  lips,  when, 
remembering  the  injunction  of  Prairie 
Flower,  I,  by  a  great  effort  suppressed  it. 

Could  this  feeble,  tottering  form  ap 
proaching  me,  indeed  be  the  gay,  dashing, 
enthusiastic  Charles  Huntly,  whom  I  had 
known  from  boyhood  ?  His  face  was  pale 
and  thin — his  lips  bloodless — his  eyes  had 
lost  much  of  their  luster,  and  moved  some 
what  nervously  in  their  sunken  sockets — 
his  cheek  bones  protruded,  and  his  robust 
figure  was  wonderfully  emaciated — while 
the  wonted  expression  of  fire  and  soul  in 
his  intelligent  countenance,  had  given 
place  to  sedateness  and  melancholy.  To 
complete,  his  head  was  rudely  bandaged, 
•  and  his  habiliments  exhibited  marks  of 
the  recent  conflict.  If  such  was  his  ap 
pearance,  what,  judging  from  the  remarks 
of  Prairie  Flower,  must  have  been  mine  ! 
I  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

As  he  came  up,  so  that  his  eye  could 


rest  upon  me,  he  suddenly  started  back, 
with  a  look  of  horror,  threw  up  both  handa 
and  exclaimed : 

"  Merciful  God !  can  this  be  Francig 
Leigh  ton  ?  "  and  staggering  to  my  side, 
he  dropped  down  upon  the  ground  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Beware  !  —  beware  !  "  cried  Prairie 
Flower  earnestly,  her  features  turning 
deadly  pale.  "  Remember,  Charles  Hunt 
ly — remember  my  warning !  or  you  will 


do  what  can  never  be  undon 


and  all  our 
have  been 


efforts  to  save  you  both  will 
made  in  vain." 

"Charles,"  gasped  I:  "Charles — 
Huntley — my  friend — compose  yourself, 
or  you  will  destroy  us  both  !  " 

"  Oh,  Frank,  Frank  !  "  he  rejoined  some 
what  wildly,  "  I  never  thought  to  see  you 
thus,  when  in  an  evil  moment  I  urged  you 
to  leave  home.  Oh!  why  did  I  do"  it! 
Forgive  me  my  friend — forgive  me,  for 
God's  sake  !  or  I  shall  go  distracted." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  my  friend,  do  not 
blame  yourself  !  I  left  home  by  my  own 
desire  and  free  will.  You  are  not  to  blame, 
any  more  than  I.  Of  course,  we  could  no4 
foretell  what  fate  had  in  store  for  us. 
Rather  thank  God,  dear  Charles,  that  we 
are  both  alive  and  likely  to  recover  !  " 

"And  you  think,  dear  Frank,  I  am  not 
to  blame  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  God  bless  you  for  a  generous  soul ! 
Oh  !  if  you  could  but  know  what  I  have 
suffered  !  Tortures  of  mind  beyond  the 
strength  of  reason  to  bear." 

"  1  have  heard  so  from  the  lips  of  our 
sweet  benefactor." 

"Ay,  sweet  benefactor,  indeed!  God 
bless  you,  lovely  Prairie  Flower  !  "  lie  ad 
ded,  passionately,  suddenly  turning  his 
eyes  upon  her.  "  If  you  are  not  rewarded 
in  this  world,  I  am  sure  you  will  be  in  the 
next." 

At  the  first  sentence,  the  face  of  the 
maiden  flushed,  and  then  changed  quickly 
to  an  ashen  hue,  while  her  breast  heaved 
with  some  powerful  emotion,  like  to  the 
billowy  sea.  She  strove  to  reply,  but 
words  failed  her,  and  turning  suddenly 
away,  she  rushed  from  the  lodge,  leaving 
us  alone. 

"  Angelic  creature  !  "  pursued  Huntlv. 
gazing  after  her  retreating  foim  with  an 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


expression  of  sincere  admiration.  "  A  lily 
too  ff»ir  to  bloom  in  a  region  so  desolate  as 
'this.  But  why  did  she  leave  us  so  abrupt 
ly,  Frank  ? "  * 

"  I  cannot  say,  unless  it  was  her  dislike 
of  praise." 

"  I  could  adore  her,  Frank,  for  her  good 
ness.  Where  would  we  be  now,  think 
you,  but  for  her  timely  aid?  " 

"  In  another  world,  most  probably,"  I 
answered  solemnly. 

"  Ay,  truly  in  another  world,"  rejoined 
Huntly  with  a  sigh.  "  And  you,  Frank,  if 
one  may  judge  by  your  looks,  are  not  far 
from  there  now.  Great  God  !  "  he  contin 
ued,  gazing  steadily  on  me,  while  his  eyes 
became  filled  with  fears — "  what  a  change 
— what  a  change  !  I  cannot  realize  even 
now,  that  I  am  speaking  to  Francis  Leigh- 
ton.  And  this  the  work  of  one  short 
week  !  Oh  !  how  have  I  longed  to  see  you, 
Frank  !  How  on  my  knees  have  I  cried, 
begged  and  implored  to  be  permitted  to  see 
you  !  But  I  was  denied — unresistingly  de- 
lied — and  now  I  am  thankful  for  it ;  for 
tad  I  seen  you  in  that  unconscious  state 
described  to  me  by  Prairie  Flower,  I  fear 
K  should  have  lost  my  reason  forever,  and 
the  sods  of  the  valley  would  soon  have 
been  green  above  my  mortal  remains." 

This  was  said  with  an  air  and  tone  so 
mournful1}',  touchingly  sad,  that  in  spite  of 
myself  J  found  my  eyes  swimming  in  tears. 

"Well,"  I  answered,  "let  us  forget  the 
past,  and  look  forward  with  hope  to  the  fu 
ll  ire  ;  and  return  to  Him — who  has  thus 
l:ir  watched  over  us  with  His  all -seeing 
<  ye,  and  raised  us  up  friends  where  we 
b.ast  expected  them,  in  our  moments  of 
affliction — the  spontaneous  thanks  of  grate 
ful  hearts  ! " 

T.n  this  and  like  manner  we  conversed 
sol  ae  half  an  hour  without  interruption. 
As  my  friend  had  been  struck  down  at  the 
sane  moment  with  myself,  he  was  of 
course  unab'e  to  give  me  any  informa 
tion  regardir  £  what  happened  afterward. 
Whether  anj  of  our  friends  were  killed  or 
not,  we  had  i  o  means  of  ascertaining,  and 
could  only  speculate  upon  the  probability 
of  this  thing  or  that.  What  had  become 
of  Teddy  ?  Had  he  survived  ? — and  if  so, 
what  must  have  been  his  feelings  when  he 
found  we  came  not  to  his  call,  and  ap- 
[«ared  not  to  his  search  ! 


This  train  of  conversation  again  brought 
us  back  to  Prairie  Flower,  and  each  had 
to  rehearse  the  little  he  had  gleaned,  and 
the  much  he  had  surmised  concerning 
herself  and  the  tribe  ;  and  in  many  points 
we  found  our  conjectures  to  correspond 
exactlv. 

"  By-the-by,"  I  observed  at  length,  "  it 
strikes  me  I  have  seen  some  face  like  hers 
— but  where  and  when  I  cannot  tell — per 
haps  in  my  dreams," 

"Indeed!"  replied  Huntly,  quickly, 
"and  so  have  I — but  thought  it  might  be 
fancy  merely — at  least  that  yoa  would 
think  so — and  therefore  kept  it  to  my 
self." 

"  Who,  then,  is  the  person  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  idea  ?  " 

"  None  in  the  least." 

"  And  if  I  tell  you,  and  you  see  no  like 
ness,  you  will  not  ridicule  my  fancy  ?  " 

"Ridicule,  Charles  ?  No  !  certainly  not. 
But  why  such  a  question  ?  " 

"  You  will  understand  that  full  soon." 

"Well,  then,  the  lady  ?" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  the  fair  un 
known?" 

"  Good  heavens  !  how  like  !  "  I  ex 
claimed.  You  are  right,  my  friend — there 
is  indeed  a  wonderful  likeness.  Perhaps 
But  no  !  the  idea  is  too  chimerical." 


"  Speak  it,  Frank — perhaps  what  ?  " 

"  I  was  about  to  add,  perhaps  they  are 
related — but  that  could  not  be." 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  asked  Huntly.  "  Such 
a  thing  is  not  impossible." 

"  Very  true — but  most  highly  improba 
ble,  as  you  will  admit.  The  beautiful  un 
known  we  saw  in  New  York — the  beauti 
ful  mysterious,  if  I  may  so  term  her,  in  the 
Far  West :  the  former,  perhaps,  a  daughter 
of  fashion  in  the  gay  and  polished  circles 
of  civilization — the  latter  among  barbari 
ans,  a  prominent  member  of  a  roving  tribe 
of  savages." 

"  But  you  overlook  that  she  could  not  be 
bred  among  savages." 

"  And  why  not  ?" 

"  Because  her  English  education,  man 
ners  and  accomplishments,  all  belie  such  a 
supposition.  I  admit  with  you,  that  the 
suggestion  advanced  by  yourself  look* 
highly  improbable — at  the  same  time  1 
contend,  as  before,  it  is  not  impossible." 

"  Well,  at  all  events,  Charles,  you  musl 


74 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER:     OR 


admit  it  utterly  useless  to  argue  a  point 
founded  solely  upon  speculation  on  both 
sides.  We  have  not  even  the  history  of 
Prairie  Flower  to  go  upon,  setting  aside 
entirely  that  of  the  other  party,  and  con 
sequently  must  come  out  exacll}  where  we 
started,  neither  of  us  the  wiser  for  the  dis 
cussion." 

"Nothing  more  true,"  answered  my 
friend,  musingly.  "I  would  to  Heaven  I 
could  learn  the  history  of  Prairie  Flower  ! 
Can  she  be  an  Indian  ?  " 

"  I  think  not." 

"What  a  perfect  creature  !  and  with  a 
name  as  beautiful  as  her  own  fair  self.  Do 
you  know,  Frank,  I " 

"  Well,  speak  out !  " 

"  You  will  not  ridicule  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  I  am  half  in  love." 

"  With  whom  ?  " 

"  Prairie  Flower." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  that  is  nothing  strange 
for  you.  I  feel  grateful  enough  to  love  her 
myself.  But,  Charley,  you  did  not  allow 
her  to  perceive  any  symptoms  of  your  pas 
sion  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.  But  why  do 
you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  it  would  offend  her." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  And  wherefore,  Frank  ?  "  asked  my 
friend,  rather  anxiously. 

"  Wherefore,  Charley  ?  Why,  I  believe 
you  are  in  love  in  earnest." 

"  Have  I  not  admitted  it  ?  " 

"  Only  partially." 

"  Then  I  acknowledge  it  fully." 

"  But  how  about  the  unknown  ?  " 

"  I  am  in  love  with  her  too." 

"  Ay,  and  with  every  pretty  face  you 
meet.  But  surely  you  are  not  serious  in 
this  matter?" 

"  I  fear  I  am,"  sighed  Huntly. 

"  But  you  cannot  love  either  much, 
when  you  acknowledge  to  loving  both." 

"  You  forget  the  resemblance  between 
the  two.  I  could  love  any  being  methinks, 
in  the  absence  of  the  unknown,  who  bore 
her  likeness." 

"  But,  for  heaven's  sake,  Charley,  do  not 
let  Prairie  Flower  know  of  this  ! — for  it 
would  omy  be  to  make  her  avoid  us  and  per 
haps  result  in  unpleasant  Consequences." 


"  And  yet,  Frank,  at  the  risk  of  beiag 
|  thought  egotistical,  I  must  own  I  have  rea 
sons  for  thinking  my  passion  returned." 

"  Returned,  say  you?  Why,  are  yon 
dreaming  ?  " 

"No,  in  my  sober  senses." 

"  And  what  reasons,  I  pray  ?  " 

"Her  manner  toward  me  wheneverm 
meet,  and  whenever  I  speak  to  her.  Sure 
ly  you  must  have  noticed  her  embarrass 
ment  and  change  of  countenance  when  1 
addressed  her  last,  ere  her  hasty  depar 
ture." 

"  I  did — but  attributed  it,  as  I  told  you 
then,  to  a  dislike  of  flattery  or  praise  to  the 
face." 

"  I  formed  a  different  opinion." 

"  Why  then  did  you  ask  me  the  cause  of 
her  leaving  so  abruptly  ?  " 

"  Merely  to  see  if  you  suspicioned  the 
same  as  I — that,  if  so,  my  own  fancies 
might  have  the  surer  foundation.  Often 
when  she  thought  herself  unnoticed,  have 
I,  by  turning  suddenly  upon  her,  caught 
her  soft,  dark  eye  fixed  earnestly  upon  me, 
with  an  expression  of  deep,  quiet,  melan 
choly  tenderness,  which  I  could  not  account 
for,  other  than  an  affectionate  regard  for 
myself ;  and  the  more  so,  that  when  my 
eye  caught  hers,  she  ever  turned  her  gass 
away,  blushed,  and  seemed  much  confused. 
It  was  this  which  first  divided  my  thoughts 
between  herself  and  you,  and  awakened  in 
my  breast  a  feeling  of  sympathy  and  affec 
tion  for  her  in  return." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  I  answered,  as  I 
recalled  her  strange  manner  of  the  day 
previous,  when  I  spoke  to  her  of  my  friend 
—  and  I  proceeded  to  detail  it  to  Huntly  4 
"But  I  am  truly  sorry  it  is  so,"  I  added, 
in  conclusion. 

"  Why  so,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Because  it  will  only  render  her  unhap 
py  for  life." 

"What!  if  I " 

"  Well,  say  on  !  If  you  what,  Char 
ley?" 

"  I  was  going  to  add — a — marry  her," 
he  replied  in  some  confusion. 

"  Marry  her  ?    Are  you  mad,  Huntly  ?  " 

"  Only  a  little  deranged." 

"  Not  a  little,  either,  if  one  may  judge 
by  such  a  remark.  Why,  my  friend,  you 
talk  of  marrying  as  if  it  were  the  most  tri 
fling  thing  in  the  world.  You  cannot  be 


ADVENTURES   IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


75 


In  earnest,  surely  !  and  it  is  a  bad  matter 
for  a  jest." 

"  1  am  not  jesting,  at  all  events,"  he  re 
plied.  "  But  why  not  marry  her,  if  we 
both  love  ?  Is  there  anything  so  remark 
able  in  marriage  ?  " 

I  looked  at  him  earnestly,  to  detect,  if 
possible,  some  sly  curl  of  the  lip,  some  lit 
tle  sign  which  I  could  construe  into  a  quiz- 
ical  meaning  ;  but  no  !  the  expression  of 
his  countenance  was  uncommonly  serious, 
if  anything,  rather  melancholy.  He  was 
sincere  beyond  a  doubt,  and  the  very 
thought  kept  me  dumb  with  surprise. 

"  You  do  not  answer,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  Perhaps  you  do  not  believe  in  my  sin 
cerity  ?" 

"  Ay,  too  truly  I  do,"  I  rejoined  ;  "  and 
the  very  knowledge  made  me  speechless. 
Why,  my  dear  friend,  what  are  you  think 
ing  of?  You,  the  young,  wealthy,  aristo 
cratic  Charles  Iluntly,  prating  seriously  to 
me  of  marriage,  and  that  to  a  nameless 
Indian  girl  of  whose  history  you  know  no 
thing,  ami  whose  acquaintance  you  have 
made  within  a  week  !  What !  can  this  be 
the  same  wild,  reckless  school-mate  of 
mine,  whose  mind  six  months  ago  rarely 
harbored  an  idea  beyond  uttering  a  jest  or 
playing  a  prank  upon  some  unsuspecting 
individual  ?  Surely  you  are  not  in  your 
sober  senses,  Charley !  or  this  is  a  land  of 
miracles,  indeed." 

"  I  am  not  what  I  was,"  sighed  my 
friend,  "though,  I  believe,  not  the  less  in 
my  senses  for  that.  That  I  was  a  gay, 
wild  youth  once,  is  no  evidence  I  should 
always  remain  one.  To  me  there  appears 
nothing  remarkable,  that  one  whose  life 
has  been  a  scene  of  folly,  should  become 
changed  by  the  near  approach  of  death. 
I  have  suffered  too  much  within  the  past 
week,  both  in  body  and  mind,  not  to  have 
had  very  serious  reflections.  As  regards 
Prairie  Flower,  I  acknowledge,  as  before, 
I  am  totally  ignorant  of  her  history  ;  that, 
as  you  say,  I  have  known  her  barely  a 
week ;  but  I  cannot  forget  that  I  am  her 
debtor,  both  for  my  own  life  and  yours. 
That  she  is  a  rare  being,  too  good  almost 
to  grace  a  world  so  cold  and  uncharitable 
as  this,  none  who  have  seen  and  conversed 
with  her  as  much  as  I,  can  doubt  for  a  mo 
ment  Regarding  marriage,  I  am  very  far 
from  thinking  it  a  trifling  affair — on  the 


contrary,  one  of  the  most  serious  of  a  man's 
life  It  is  an  event  to  make  or  mar  his 
happiness  ;  and  for  that  reason  should  be 
considered  with  all  due  solemnity,  and 
everything  pertaining  to  it  duly  weighed, 
that  none  may  afterward  be  found  want 
ing.  Had  I  proposed  to  you  to  unite  my 
self  with  a  lady  of  fine  accomplishments 
and  fortune,  would  you  have  asked  the 
question  if  both  loved — if  she  was  one  to 
make  me  happy  ?  Probably  not ;  for  her 
wealth  would  prove  the  '  silver  vail,'  to 
conceal  all  her  defects.  Should  a  man 
take  the  solemn  vows  of  marriage  to  please 
himself  or  friends  ?  Should  he  do  so  mere 
ly  to  make  a  display  in  public,  and  render 
his  heart  in  private  the  seat  of  misery  ? 
Of  what  value  is  gold,  if  it  add  nothing  to 
a  man's  happiness  ?  Riches  are  unstable, 
and  often,  as  the  proverb  has  it,  '  take  to 
themselves  wings  and  fly  away.'  And  then, 
to  him  who  has  made  these  his  god — whc 
has  wedded  them  and  not  the  woman— 
what  is  the  result  ?  A  few  days  of  misery 
and  an  unhappy  end.  Do  not  conclude 
from  this,  my  dear  Frank,  that  I  have  re 
solved  to  marry  Prairie  Flower ;  for  until 
it  was  suggested  by  your  own  remarks, 
such  a  thought  never  entered  my  head  ; 
and  even  now  such  a  result  is  highly  im 
probable.  I  merely  hinted  at  the  possibil 
ity  of  the  thing,  to  ascertain  what  effect  it 
would  have  upon  you." 

"  Well,  I  am  happy  in  knowing  the  mat 
ter  is  not  so  serious  as  I  was  at  tirst  led  to 
suppose.  Take  my  word,  Charley,  it  is 
only  a  mere  whim  of  the  moment,  which 
will  pass  away  with  a  return  of  health  and 
strength.  When  the  body  becomes  dis 
eased,  it  is  not  uncommon  for  the  mind  to 
be  affected  also  ;  and  though  the  idea  you 
have  suggested  may  seem  plausible  now — 
mark  me  !  you  will  yet  live  to  think  it  pre 
posterous,  and  laugh  at  your  present  folly." 

"  Then,  Frank,  you  think  my  mind 
unsound  ? " 

"  Not  in  a  healthy  state,  certainly — or, 
with  your  quick  sense  of  perception,  you 
would  have  become  aware  ere  this,  that, 
no  matter  how  deep  her  love,  Prairie 
Flower  is  one  to  reject  even  Charles 
Huntly." 

"  Reject  me,  Frank,  say  you?  —  reject 
me?"  cried  Iluntly,  auickly,  with  a  look 
1  of  surprise. 


r* 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR 


"  Ay.  reject  3-0x1 — even  you — the  rich, 
educated,  and  polished  Charles  Huntly." 

"  And  why,  Frank  ?" 

"  First,  because  her  proud,  retiring 
nature  would  rebel  at  the  thought  of  an 
alliance  with  one  whom  the  world  might 
consider  her  superior.  Secondly,  because 
her  sense  of  duty  would  not  allow  her  to 
depart  from  her  tribe,  to  which  she  be 
longs  either  by  birth  or  adoption.  Third 
ly,  and  conclusively,  because  she  is  one 
who  has  evidently  resolved  to  remain  sin 
gle  through  life.  She  is  a  girl  possessed 
of  a  remarkable  mind,  which  once  fixed 
upon  a  point,  remains  unchangeable  for 
ever.  That  she  loves  you,  I  now  believe  ; 
that  you  return  the  passion,  in  a  measure, 
you  have  acknowledged ;'  but  that  she 
would  consent  to  leave  her  tribe  and  pledge 
herself  to  you  for  life,  I  believe  a  thing 
impossible." 

"  You  perhaps  have  reasons  for  thinking 
thus?"observed  Huntly.eyeingme  sharply. 

"  Nothing  more  than  what  I  have  gath 
ered  from  noting  her  closely,  during  the 
brief  period  of  our  acquaintance.  I  may 
be  wrong,  but  time  will  show.  At  all 
events,  my  friend,  I  warn  you,  if  you  feel 
an  increasing  passion  or  affection  for  this 
girl,  to  suppress  it  at  once,  and  leave  the 
vicinity  as  soon  as  the  health  of  both  of 
us  will  permit." 

"  I  will  think  of  it  my  dear  friend  ;  and 
"in  the  mean  time,  do  you  watch  Prairie 
Flower  closely — as  I  will  myself — to  learn 
if  your  surmises  be  correct ;  and  should  a 
convenient  opportunity  offer,  fail  not  to  use 
it  to  find  out  the  true  state  of  her  feelings 

regarding  myself.     I But  enough — 

she  comes." 

As  he  spoke,  Prairie  Flower  entered  the 
lodge  to  put  an  end  to  our  conversation, 
lest  harm  might  be  done  me  by  too  much 
excitement.  I  now  observed  her  narrow 
ly,  and  saw  their  was  a  constraint  in  her 
manner,  which  she  only  the  more  exposed 
by  trying  to  conceal  and  appear  perfectly 
natural.  She  gently  reminded  IluntJy  it 
was  time  for  him  to  withdraw  ;  and  though 
lie  strove  hard  to  catch  the  soft  glance  of 
IILT  darli  beaming  eye,  yet  all  his  efforts 
Droved  fruitless  ;  and  pressing  my  hand, 
with  a  hearty  "  God  bless  you!"  and  a 
deep,  earnest  prayer  for  my  speedy  recov 
pry,  he  quitted  the  apartment. 


Asking  me  one  or  two  questions  regard* 
ing  the  effect  produced  upon  me  by  my 
friend's  visit,  and  finding  instead  of  injury 
it  had  resulted  to  my  benefit,  Prairie  Flow- 
1  er  bade  me  seek  instant  repose  in  sleep; 
:  and  promising  that  Huntly  should  see  me 
!  again  on   the  following  day,  she  turned, 
i  and  in  a  musing  mood,  with  her  head  drop 
ped  upon  her  bosom,  and  slow  steps,  dis- 
:  appeared. 

There  was    no    mistaking    it ;    Prairie 

j  Flower  was  in  love  with  my  friend  ;  and  I 

!  sighed  at  the  thought,  that  the  hour  of  her 

friendship  to  us,  might  prove  the  data  of 

her  own  unhappiness. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

CONVALESCENCE THE  MYSTERIOUS  OR  GREAT 

MEDICINE  TRIBE THEIR  MANNERS THEIB 

DAILY  MODE  OF  WORSHIP THEIR  MORNING, 

NOON,  AND  EVENING  SONGS — A  WSDDING — • 
A  FUNERAL,  ETC. 

TIME  rolled  on  slowly,  each  day  adding 
something  to  my  convalescence,  and  the 
expiration  of  a  month  found  me  so  far  re 
covered  as  to  venture  on  a  short  stroll  in 
the  open  air.  During  this  long  period  of 
confinement,  (to  me  it  seemed  a  year,) 
Prairie  Flower  and  Huntly  visited  me  ev 
ery  day,  though  rarely  together ;  and  to 
ward  the  last,  my  friend  became  an  almost 
constant  companion. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  emotions  of  gra 
titude  and  joy  which  I  experienced  on  be 
holding  once  more  the  green  leaves  and 
blades,  the  bright  flowers  and  glorious  sun 
shine,  feeling  again  the  soft,  balmy  breezo 
of  heaven  upon  my  emaciated  frame,  and 
hearing  the  artless  songs  of  the  forest  warb 
lers.  Earth,  which  for  a  time  had  seemed 
cold  and  dreary,  now  appeared  changed 
to  a  heavenly  paradise,  and  I  could  not 
realize  I  had  ever  seen  it  look  so  en- 
chantly  beautiful  before.  In  this  I  was 
doubtless  correct ;  for  never  before  had  I 
been  absent  from  it  so  long  ;  and  the  con 
trast  between  the  grim,  rude  walls  of  my 
late  abode,  and  all  I  now  beheld,  wa* 
enough  to  have  put  in  ecstacies  a  far  less 
excitable  and  enthusiastic  individual  than 
myself. 


I 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST 


The  village  of  the  Mysterious  or  Great 
Medicine  Tribe,  I  found  to  consist  of  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  lodges,  situated  on  the 
side  of  the  mountain  so  as  to  overlook  a 
beautiful  valley  some  quarter  of  a  mile  be 
low,  through  which  flowed  a  murmuring 
stream  that  formed  one  of  the  tributaries 
of  the  Platte.  The  cabins,  though  only 
temporarily  erected,  were  very  comforta 
ble,  and  placed  so  as  to  form  a  complete 
circle,  in  the  center  of  which  stood  the 
Great  Medicine  lodge  of  Cha-cha-chee-kee- 
hobah,  where  I  had  been  confined,  and  by 
which,  as  I  now  learned,  I  had  been  high 
ly  honored,  inasmuch  as  not  a  soul  besides 
its  owner  and  Prairie  Flower,  unless  by 
special  permit,  was  ever  allowed  to  cros£ 
its  threshold.  This  then  accounted  for 
nay  not  having  seen  any  of  the  tribe  dur 
ing  my  confinement  in  bed.  The  Great 
Medicine  lodge,  and  one  other,  were  dis 
tinguished  from  the  rest  by  their  whitish 
appearance,  done  probably  by  a  limish 
composition  found  on  the  mountains.  This 
other  alluded  to,  was  the  residence  of  Prai 
rie  Flower,  and  two  young,  dark-skinned, 
blaok  -  haired,  bright  -  eyed,  pretty  -  faced 
Indian  girls,  whose  countenances  and 
costumes  bespoke  intelligence  and  supe- 
rioi  ity. 

Among  this  tribe  were  some  twenty  fe 
males  and  as  many  children,  and  the  bal 
ance  males,  all  of  whom  were  decently 
dad,  and  clean  and  tidy  in  their  appear 
ance.  Save  Prairie  Flower,  but  very  few 
of  them  wore  any  kind  of  ornaments,  and 
their  dark,  clear  skins  were  not  in  the  least 
bedaubed  with  paint.  Most  of  them  spoke 
the  English  language,  and  some  quite  flu 
ently  ;  and  I  observed  many  an  old  well- 
thumbed  book — generally  a  bible — lying 
about  their  wigwams.  In  their  intercourse 
with  myself  and  friend,  they  displayed  a 
dignified  courtesy,  and  not  one  of  all  the 
children  did  I  ever  observe  to  behave  in 
a  rude  or  unbecoming  manner. 

They  were,  take  them  all  in  all,  a  re 
markable  people,  and  rightly  named  the 
Mysterious  Tribe  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  could 
judge,  very  zealous  in  the  cause  of  Chris- 
h&nity.  Three  times  a  day  did  they  col 
lect  for  public  devotion  to  the  Great  Spi 
rit  ;  and  their  ceremony,  though  simple, 
was  one  of  the  most  impressive  I  ever 
witnessed.  It  was  in  the  following  manner: 


At  sunrise,  noon,  and  sunset,  Prairie 
Flower  and  her  two  Indian  companions 
would  come  forth  from  their  loda;e,  arrav- 

^ 

ed  in  neat  and  simple  attire,  each  bearing 
in  her  hand  a  kind  of  drum,  or  tamboriuo 
without  the  bells,  and  approaching  the 
Great  Medicine  Lodge,  would  arrange  them 
selves  in  its  front.  Then  bowing  10  the 
east  and  west,  the  north  and  south,  they 
would  beat  the  tamborines  with  their  fin 
gers — whereupon  the  whole  village — men, 
women  and  children — would  hastily  quit 
whatever  occupation  they  might  be  at,  and 
assemble  around  them,  their  faces  ex 
pressive  of  the  importance  and  solemnity 
which  they  attached  to  the  occasion.  The 
tamborines  would  continue  to  beat  until 
all  were  gathered  together,  when  a  deep 
and  impressive  silence  would  ensue,  during 
which  each  face  would  be  turned  upward, 
as  if  to  solicit  the  Great  Guardian  of  all 
to  be  with  them  in  their  devotions.  Then 
the  maidens  would  strike  out  into  a  clear, 
silvery  song,  and  at  the  end  of  each  stanza 
would  be  joined  in  the  chorus  by  all  of 
both  sexes,  young  and  old,  during  which 
each  would  kneel  upon  the  earth,  and  con 
tinue  there  until  the  commencement  of  the 
next,  when  all  would  again  rise  to  their  feet. 
These  songs,  of  which  there  were  three, 
were  translated  to  me  by  Prairie  Flower, 
at  my  request,  and  I  herewith  give  them— 
if  not  in  language,  at  least  in  spirit  an«l 
sentiment — commencing  with  the 

MORNING  SONG. 
The  day  is  up,  the  sun  appears, 
That  sun  of  many  thousand  years, 
And  morning  smiles  through  evening's  tears: 

Thanks !  thanks !  thanks ! 
To  Thee  who  made  the  earth  and  and  sky, 
The  hosts  that  go  revolving  by, 
And  all  that  live  and  all  that  die- 
God  !  God  !  God  ! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel  !  Kneel  !  Kneel ! 
O,  bless  us,  Spirit, 
That  doth  inherit 
The  earth  and  air, 
And  everywhere, 
And  save  us,  Thou, 
To  \vH  )m  we  bow, 
All  h.imbly  now, 
Our  Great  and  Heavenly  Father  ! 

The  day  is  up,  and  through  our  ai«ep 

We've  felt  no  visitations  deep, 

And  nothing  wherefore  we  should  weep 

Thanks  !  thanks  !   thanks  ! 
Preserve  us  still  throughout  the  day, 
Teach  us  to  senk  the  better  way, 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


AfiC.  never  let  us  gc.  astray — 
God  I  God  !  God  ! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel  !  kneel  !  kneel  ! 
(),  bless  us,  Spirit, 
That  doth  inherit 
The  earth  and  air, 
Aii.l  everywhere  ! 
Aih!  save,  us,  Thou, 
To  whom  we  bow, 
All  hurnblj  now, 
Our  Great  and  Heavenly  Father! 

NOON-DAY  SONG. 
The  day  moves  ou  und  all  goes  well, 
More  blessings  now  than  we  can  tell, 
With  giatituJe  our  hearts  do  swell: 

Thanks  !   thanks  !   thanks  ! 
Bless  and  preserve  us  still,  we  pray, 
With  food  and  raiment  line  our  way, 
A'ir.  keep  us  to  the  close  cf  day — 

God  !  God  !  God  ! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel  !  kneel  !  kneel  ! 
Father  of  Heaven, 
To  Thee  be  given 
Unbounded  praise, 
Through  endless  days  ! 
And  like  the  sun, 

In  Heaven  above, 
Pour  on  us  now 

Thy  warmth  of  love  ! 
And  may  our  feet 

Forever  press 
Th-j  virtuous  paths 

Which  Thou  doth  bless! 
To  Thee  all  praise,  Lord,  God,  our  Father ! 

T!K  noon-day  breezes  now  go  by, 

The  forest  gives  a  welcome  sigh, 

The  murmuring  streamlets  sweet  reply  : 

Thanks  !  thanks  !  thanks  ! 
The  birds  carol,  the  insects  sing, 
And  joy  beams  out  in  everything, 
For  which  all  praise  to  Thee  we  bring — 

God  !  God  !  God  ! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel  !  kneel  !  kneel  ! 
Father  of  Heaven, 
^o  tliee  be  given 
Unbounded  praise, 
Through  endless  days ! 
And  like  the  sun, 

In  heaven  above, 
Pour  on  us  now 

Thy  warmth  of  love  ! 
And  may  our  feet 

Forever  press, 
The  virtuous  paths 

Which  Thou  dost  bless  ! 
To  thee  all  praise,  Lord,  God,  our  Father  ! 

EVENING  SONG. 
The  day  is  dying,  wood  and  wold 
Are  growing  dim,  as  \\'e  behold, 
And  night  will  soon  us  all  enfold  : 

Thanks  !  thanks  !   thanks  ! 
lhat  Thou  the  day  hath  kept  us  through, 
Taught  each  his  duty  right  to  do. 


And  made  us  all  so  happy  too  - 
God  !  God  !  God  ! 

CHORUS. 

Kueel  !  kneel  !  kncei . 
All  heaven,  and  earth,  and  sea,  and  at), 
Are  marked  by' His  all-seeing  eye, 
Which  will  look  deep  into  ihe  night, 
To  note  if  each  one  doeth  right, 
And  watch  us  in  our  dreams  of  sleep, 
On  all  our  thoughts  and  actions  keep  : 
So  may  each  thought,  each  deed  we  d<^ 
Be  one  that  will  bear  looking  through  ! 

And  bless  us,  Thou, 

To  whom  we  bow, 

All  humbly  now, 
Most  great  Lord,  God,  Almighty  ! 

The  sun  hath  set  in  yonder  wi-st, 
The  beasts  and  birds  are  seeking  rest, 
All  nature  is  in  sable  dressed  : 

Thanks  !  thanks  !  thanks  ! 
Preserve  us,  Thou,  till  morning  light 
Doth  lift  the  sable  vail  of  night  ! 
May  holy  angels  guard  us  right, 
Our  sleep  be  sweet,  our  dreams  be  brightj 
And  not  a  tiling  our  souls  affiright — 

God  !  God  !  God  ! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel  !  kneel  !  kneel  ! 
All  heaven,  and  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky, 
Are  marked  by  His  all-seeing  eye, 
Which  will  look  deep  into  the  night, 
To  note  if  each  one  doeth  right, 
And  watch  us  in  our  dreams  of  sleep, 
On  all  our  thoughts  and  actions  keep  : 
So  may  each  thought,  each  deed  we  do, 
Be  one  that  will  bear  looking  through.' 

And  bless  us,  Thou, 

To  whom  we  bow, 

All  humbly  now, 
Most  great  Lord,  God,  Almighty  ! 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  convey  the 
iweet  and  plaintive  melody  which  accom 
panied  each  song,  and  which,  before  I 
inew  a  word  that  was  uttered,  produced 
upon  my  mind,  and  that  of  my  friend,  the 
most  pleasing  and  solemn  effect — particu- 
arly  as  we  noted  that  each  was  accompa 
nied  with  an  earnestness  and  sincerity  of 
manner,  such  as  I  had  rarely  witnessed  in 
Christian  churches  within  the  borders  of 
civilization.  At  the  end  of  each  of  these 
longs,  and  while  the  assemblage  remained 
n  the  kneeling  posture  of  the  chorus,  the 
Old-Man-of-the-Mountains  would  suddenly 
make  his  appearance,  and  hooping  his  arms 
H'fore  him  and  bowing,  after  the  Turkish 
"ash ion,  would  utter  a  few  words  as  a  sort 
>f  benediction — whereupon  all  would  rise, 
ind  eacli  depart  quietly  to  his  ledge,  or  hi 
>revious  occupation. 

The  devotional  scenes  just  mentioned 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


were  of  every  day  occurrence,  when  no 
thing  of  importance  had  transpired  to  elate 
the  actors  with  joy,  or  depress  them  with 
grief — in  either  of  which  events,  the  songs 
and  manner  of  worship  was  changed  to 
suit  the  occasion. 

With  this  people,  a  wedding  or  a  funeral 
was  a  very  important  affair  ;  and  as  I  so 
journed  some  two  months  or  more  among 
them,  ere  my  strength  permitted  me  to  de 
part,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing 
both.  As  the  former  was  the  first  in  order 
of  occurrence,  I  shall  proceed  to  describe 
it  first. 

The  bride  was  an  interesting  Indian 
maiden,  some  seventeen  years  of  age,  and 
the  groom  a  tall,  athletic  Indian,  her  senior 
by  at  least  five  more.  Both  were  becom 
ingly  decked  with  wampum  belts,  figured 
moccasins,  and  various  ornaments  worn 
around  the  neck  and  arms  ;  those  of  the 
maiden  being  bare  above  the  elbow,  and 
displaying  her  rich,  dark  skin  to  good  ad 
vantage.  Around  the  head  of  each  was 
bound  a  wreath  of  ivy,  diversified  with  a 
few  sprigs  of  cedar,  emblematical,  as  I  was 
informed,  of  their  love,  which  must  ever 
remain  green  and  unfading. 

O  O 

The  nuptial  ceremony  took  place  in  the 
lodge  of  the  bride,  and  was  as  follows  :  On 
the  announcement  that  all  was  ready,  a 
deputation  of  maidens,  consisting  for  the 
most  part  of  Prairie  Flower  and  her  com 
panions,  surrounded  the  bride,  and  placing 
their  hand  on  her  head,  asked  her  several 
questions  pertaining  to  herself  and  lover, 
the  most  important  of  which  were,  if  she 
truly  loved  him  she  was  about  to  take  for 
ever,  and  thought  that  marriage  would  in 
crease  her  happiness.  Receiving  replies 
in  the  affirmative,  they  commenced  singing 
in  a  lov.^  melodious  tone,  the  subjoined 

BRIDAL  SONG. 

Blooming  maiden, 

Heavy  laden 
With  IK>\V  hopes,  and  joys,  and  fears — 

Sad  with  gladness, 

Glad  with  sadness, 
Thou  art  going,  young  in  years, 

To  another, 

More  than  brother, 

Father,  mother, 

Ur  aught  other 
WU<l«t  among  thy  race  appear*. 

We  have  bound  thee, 
Aa  we  fovyid  the*, 


With  unfading  green  wreathed  the*  • 

Emblem  fitting, 

Unremitting 
Must  thy  love  forever  be  ; 

That  thou  ever 

Must  endeavor 

Not  to  sever, 

Now,  nor  never, 
Bonds  of  time,  eternity. 

Now  go,  maiden, 

Sweetly  laden 

With  all  blessings  we've  in  store- 
Take  him  to  thee, 

Who  did  woo  thee, 
Deeper  love  him  than  before  : 

God  be  sending 

His  defending, 

Joy  portending, 

Never  ending 
Blessings  on  thee,  evermore  ! 

On  the  conclusion  of  this  song,  each  of 
the  singers  laid  her  right  hand  upon  the 
head  of  the  bride,  and  commenced  danc 
ing  around  her  in  a  circle.  This  lasted 
some  ten  minutes,  during  which  time  a 
deputation  of  Indian  youths — or  what  in 
any  other  tribe  would  have  been  termed 
braves — led  forward  the  groom  to  within 
a  few  feet  of  his  intended,  and  commenced 
a  similar  dance  around  him,  accompany 
ing  it  with  a  song,  the  same  in  sentiment, 
if  not  in  language,  as  the  one  just  given. 
This  dance  over,  the  youths  and  maidens 
fell  back  in  two  rows,  facing  each  other, 
while  the  groom  and  bride  modestly  ad 
vanced,  unattended,  and  took  hold  ^of 
hands. 

In  this  manner  all  quitted  the  lodge  for 
the  open  air,  where  the  villagers  were 
drawn  up  to  receive  them,  and  who  imme 
diately  formed  a  dense  circle  around  them. 
Then,  amid  a  deep  silence,  all  kneeled 
upon  the  earth,  and  rising,  pointed  their 
right  fore-lingers  to  the  sky,  and  bowed  to 
the  four  great  points  of  compass.  Then 
all,  save  the  bride  and  groom,  united  in 
the  following 

BRIDAL  CHORDS 
Joined  in  heart,  and  joined  in  hand, 

By  great  Heaven's  wise  decree, 
Ye  must  ever  so  endeavor, 

That  you  ne'er  may  parted  be — 

Never !  never  ! 

So,  forever, 
May  Almighty  Power  bless  ye 

In  your  prime, 

And  through  all  time, 
And  on  through  all  eternity  ! 

As  the  chorus  concluded,  the  ring  opened. 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR 


and  the  Old-Man-of-the-Mountains  made 
his  appearance,  bearing  in  one  hand  a 
long  staff,  and  in  the  other  a  horn  cup 
of  smoking  incense,  which  he  waved  to 
and  fro.  Approaching  the  bride  and 
groom,  he  held  it  between  them,  and  lay 
ing  his  staff  on  their  heads,  and  bidding 
them  again  join  hands,  he  proceeded  to 
tjh.'int,  in  a  feeble,  cracked  voice,  the 

CLOSING  MARRIAGE  STRAIN. 

As  this  incense  to  Heaven, 

So  your  vows  here  are  given, 
And  written  by  angels  above, 

On  the  ponderous  pages, 

Of  the  great  Book  of  Ages, 
And  stamped  with  His  great  seal  of  Love. 

By  earth  and  by  air, 

By  water  and  fire, 
By  everything  under  the  sun — 

By  your  own  plighted  faith, 

To  he  true  unto  death, 
In  God's  name  I  pronounce  you  twain  one. 

Waving  his  stick  once  more  above  their 
Heads,  and  uttering  his  usual  word  "  Onh- 
chi,"  Great  Medicine  retraced  his  steps  to 
his  lodge.  On  his  departure,  the  friends 
of  the  newly  married  pair  stepped  forward 
in  the  order  of  relation,  and  greeted  both 
with  a  hearty  shaking  of  hands,  and 'invo 
cations  of  blessings  from  the  Great  Spirit 
Then  followed  a  feast  prepared  for  the 
occasion,  consisting  principally  of  buffalo, 
bear  and  deer  meat,  together  with  that  of 
v^ious  wild  fowls.  This  was  eaten  seat 
ed  upon  buffalo  skins,  and  was  served  to 
the  larger  party  by  four  waiters,  two  of 
both  sexes.  After  this  came  one  or  two 
more  songs,  in  which  all  joined,  and  a 
general  dance  closed  the  festivities  of  the 
day. 

The  funeral  which  I  witnessed,  was  that 
of  a  young  man  greatly  beloved  by  his 
tribe.  The  day  succeeding  his  death,  was 
the  one  appointed  for  the  solemn  ceremony 
of  sepulture.  Meantime  the  body  remain 
ed  in  the  lodge  where  the  vital  spark  had 
been  extinguished,  and,  locked  up  with  it 
from  all  intrusion,  remained  also  the  near 
relatives  of  the  deceased,  fasting  and  em 
ploying  their  moments  in  prayer. 

When  the  time  for  the  funeral  service 
ad  arrived,  four  Indian  youths  who  had 
been  companions  of  the  deceased,  entered 
the  lodge,  and  wrapping  the  body  in  a  buf 
falo-hide,  bore  it  to  that  of  Great  Medi- 
Wn-:,  and  deposited  it  on  the  ground,  out 


side.  Hither  followed  tKe  relatives,  theii 
heads  bound  with  withered  flowers,  and 
leaves,  emblematical  of  tho  decay  of  every 
thing  earthly,  however  fair  and  beautiful. 
Forming  a  narrow  circle  round  the  body, 
they  kneeled  upon  the  earth,  and  placing 
their  right  hands  upon  the  breast  of  tho 
departed,  and  their  left  upon  their  hearts, 
uttered  low  and  plaintive  moans — the  sig 
nal  that  all  was  ready  for  the  mournful 
rite.  Next  appeared  Prairie  Flower,  with 
three  other  maidens,  and  approaching  the 
youths,  all  clasped  hands  and  formed  a 
ring  outside  the  circle  of  kneeling  and 
weeping  relatives.  Then  they  commenced 
walking  round  the  living  and  dead,  and  as 
they  passed  the  head  of  the  latter,  each 
uttered  a  short  prayer  that  his  noble  spirit 
might  find  eternal  rest  beyond  the  grave. 
When  this  was  concluded,  Great  Medicine 
appeared,  holding  in  his  hand  a  drum, 
which  he  beat  rapidly  a  few  times,  where 
upon  the  remainder  of  the  villagers  came 
forth  from  their  lodges,  and  formed  a  third 
circle  outside  of  all.  The  second  circl  j 
now  fell  back  to  the  largest,  leaving  a  wid ) 
space  between  it  and  the  mourners,  wh  i 
still  remained  kneeling  as  before.  A  short 
silence  followed,  when  the  leader  of  thj 
corpse  bearers  stepped  forward  and  set 
forth,  in  a  clear,  musical  tone,  the  manT 
virtues  of  the  dead,  and  pronounced  u 
eloquent  eulogy  over  his  remains. 

On  the  conclusion  of  this,  the  speakei 
took  his  place  among  the  rest,  when  aQ 
broke  forth  in  the  following 

FUNERAL  DIRGE. 

Gone  !  gone !  gone ! 
From  earth  gone  forever  : 

No  more  here  we'll  meet  him, 
No  more  here  we'll  greet  him, 

No  more,  nevermore — 

All  is  o'er,  evermore — 

Forever  !  forever  ! 
He's  gone  from  the  mortal — 
He's  passed  Death's  great  portal- 

And  now  will  his  spirit 

Forever  inherit, 

In  regions  of  bliss, 

What  it  could  not  in  this. 
Passed  from  all  sorrow, 

Vexation  and  care, 
Gone  to  the  regions 

That  bright  angels  share, 
In  yon  golden  Heaven 

His  spirit  will  rest, 
\Vith  joys  the  most  holy 

Forever  be  blessed. 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


W«ep  !  weep  !  weep  ! 
But  weep  not  in  sorrow  : 
With  tears  bend  above  him, 
With  tears  show  you  love  him  — 
But  weep  for  relief, 
Rather  than  grief  — 

For  to-inorrow  —  to-morrow— 
Ye  may  join  him  in  glory, 
To  tell  the  bright  story, 
Of  earthly  denials, 
Losses  and  trials, 
Of  unwavering  faith, 
Of  your  joy  to  meet  death, 
That  your  spirit  in  freedom 

Forever  might  roam, 
O'er  the  sweet  vales  of  Eden, 

Your  last  lovely  home  — 
To  join  there  in  singing, 

As  bright  angels  do, 
The  songs  of  Great  Spirit, 
Eternity  through 

This  was  sung  to  a  mournful  tune,  and 
when  the  last  strain  had  died  away  upon 
the  air,  all  simultaneously  dropped  upon 
their  knees,  and  bowed  their  heads  to  the 
earth  in  token  of  submission  to  the  Divine 
will.  Then  they  rose  to  their  feet;  mourn 
ers  and  all,  and  forming  themselves  into 
two  long  lines,  the  four  bearers  proceeded 
to  raise  the  corpse  slowly  and  in  silence  ; 
and  preceded  by  Great  Medicine,  and  fol- 
low^dby  the  maidens,  the  relatives  and  the 
rest,  two  by  two,  all  moved  solemnly  for 
ward  to  the  last  earthly  resting  place  of 
the  de?d  —  a  rude  grave  scooped  out  in  the 
side  of  *he  mountain,  some  forty  rods  dis 
tant  from  the  village. 

Deporiting  the  body  in  the  ground  with 
iril  due  -everence,  the  bearers  threw  upon 
it  a  hardful  of  loose  earth,  and  moved 
aside  for  the  others  to  do  the  same.  This 
eoncludei,  the  villagers  formed  a  large 
ring  around  the  open  grave,  when  Great 
Med'cim  stepped  forward  to  the  center 
aoi!  <shavnted 


THE  LAST 

Formed  of  dust 

The  spirit  apurneth, 
Back  to  dust 

The  body  turneth— 
But  the  spirit, 

Passed  death's-portal, 
Dotli  become 

A  thing  immortal. 

Ye  who  mourn  him, 

Be  unshaken, 
That  Who  gave, 

Again  hath  taken  — 

6 


That  the  dead, 

Before  ye  lying, 
Made  a  happy 

Change  in  dyinj 
And  ye  dead, 

Here  rest  in  quiet, 
Till  ye  hear 

The  final  fiat, 
That  in  voice, 

More  loud  than  thundei, 
Shall  command 

Your  tomb  asunder! 
To  earth  we  consign  thee  ! 
To  God  we  resign  thee  ! 

CHORUS. 

Sleep  !  sleep  !  sleep  ! 
The  birds  shall  carol  o'er  thy  head, 
The  stream  shall  murmur  o'er  its  bed, 
The  breeze  shall  make  the  forest  sigh, 
And  flowers  above  thee  bloom  and  die — 
But  birds,  and  stream,  and  breeze,  and  flowers, 
Shall  joy  no  more  thy  sleeping  hours. 
To  earth  we  consign  thee  ! 
To  God  we  resign  tkee  ! 
Farewell ! 

The  chorus  was  sung  by  all  with  im 
pressive  solemnity,  and  on  its  conclusion, 
the  four  corpse  bearers  advanced,  and  with 
wooden  spades  buried  the  dead  for  ever 
from  the  sight  of  the  living.  Two  by  two, 
in  the  same  order  they  had  come  hither, 
the  whole  party  returned  to  the  villao-e, 
and  the  day  was  spent  in  fasting  and  devo 
tional  exercises. 

The  food  of  the  Great  Medicine  Nation 
consisted,  for  the  most  part,  of  meat  of 
various  wild  animals,  which  they  gener 
ally  killed  with  rifles,  together  with  a  few 
fish,  for  which  they  angled  in  the  streams. 
Sometimes  they  planted  and  raised  a  small 
patch  of  corn,  as  was  the  case  in  the  pre 
sent  instance  ;  but  their  roving  life,  as  a 
general  tiling,  led  them  to  depend  upon 
such  vegetable  food  as  chanced  in  their 
way.  Among  them  they  owned  some  fif 
teen  horses,  as  many  tame  goats,  which 
they  milked  daily,  and  twice  the  number 
of  mules.  They  also  owned  a  few  traps, 
and  when  in  a  beaver  country,  did  not  fail 
using  them  to  procure  pelts  ;  which,  to 
gether  with  buffalo  and  bear  skins,  they 
traded  with  the  whites  for  such  extras  as 
they  considered  useful.  With  them,  all 
property,  with  the  exception  of  bodily  rai 
ment,  was  in  common  ;  and  each  labored, 
not  for  himself  alone,  but  for  his  neighboi 
also.  During  the  day  their  animals  fed 
around  the  encampment,  and  in  the  valley 
at  the  base  of  the  mountain — but  at  nio-hl 


TUB    PRATRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


all  were  driven  in  and  carrelled,  or  yarded, 
within  the  village. 

Never  before  had  I  seen  a  people  appear 
so  wholly  content  with  whatever  Provi 
dence  might  give  them,  and  so  perfectly 
happy  among  themselves  ,  and  the  time  I 
spent  with  them,  however  singular  the 
statement  may  seem  to  others,  I  must  ac 
count  one  of  the  most  pleasant  periods  of 
nay  life 

o 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

RESOLVE     TO     RESUME     OUR    JOURNEY AN- 

VOUNCSMKNT    TO    PRAIRIE    FLOWER HER 

SURPRISE  AND  REGRET DANGERS  ENUME 
RATED A     CARELESS    QUESTION ABRUPT 

ANSWER ALARMING    AGITATION    OF    PRAI 
RIE    FLOWER OUR    JOURNEY    POSTPONED 

FOR   THREE    DAYS HASTY    DEPARTURE   OF 

PRAIRIE    FLOWER. 

IT  was  about  the  beginning  of  Septem 
ber,  that  I  found  my  wounds  so  far  healed 
and  my  strength  so  much  recovered,  as  to 
think  seriously  of  taking  my  departure. 
The  air,  too,  on  the  mountains  was  becom 
ing  cool  and  frosty  ;  and  as  my  friend  and 
I  had  decided  on  crossing  to  Oregon  or 
California  before  the  snow-storms  of  win 
ter  should  entirely  bar  our  progress,  we 
thought  best  to  be  on  the  move  as  soon 
as  possible. 

Daring  my  stay  in  the  village,  I  had 
seen  and  conversed  more  or  less  with  Prai 
rie  Flower  every  day.  and  noted  with  re 
gret  that  hsr  features  gradually  grew  more 
and  more  pale,  her  eye  more  languid  and 
less  bright,  her  step  less  elastic  and  buoy 
ant,  and  that  she  moved  slowly  and  heav 
ily  over  the  ground,  with  her  head  bent 
forward  in  a  mood  of  deep  abstraction. 
The  cause  of  this  I  was  at  no  loss  to  con 
jecture,  particularly  as  I  saw  a  studied 
effort  on  her  part  to  avoid  my  friend  on  all 
occasions,  and  that,  when  they  did  meet, 
she  ever  exhibited  toward  him  a  coldness 
totally  foreign  to  her  warm,  frank,  open, 
generous  nature.  Huntly  noticed  her 
seeming  aversion  to  him,  with  less  philos 
ophy  than  I  had  expected  to  see  him  dis 
play.  In  fact  he  became  exceedingly 
troubled  about  it,  and  often  told  me  with 
a  sigh,  that  he  must  have  been  mistaken — 
that  she  did  not  love  him — but  that  it  was 


me  on  whom  her  affections  were  placed. 

contradicted  him  only  so  far  as  to  say, 
that  she  cared  no  more  for  me  than  for 
him  ;  but  did  not  care  to  tell  him  the  real 
ause  of  her  coldness — for  I  saw  it  wouid 
only  serve  to  inflame  his  passion,  and, 
from  what  I  could  judge,  render  both  the 
more  unhappy. 

That  Prairie  Flower  loved  my  friend, 
and  that  too  against  her  wiL  ,was  to  me  ai 
clear  as  daylight ;  and  the  anguish  it  must 
have  cost  her  gentle  heart  to  avoid  and 
appear  cold  and  indifferent  toward  him,  1 
could  better  imagine  than  realize.  Sev 
eral  times  had  I  been  tempted  to  broach 
to  her  the  subject,  that  I  might  learn  from 
her  lips  the  true  state  of  her  heart ;  but 
the  slightest  allusion  to  my  friend,  always 
produced  such  visible,  painful  embarrass 
ment,  that  I  instantly  abandoned  the  idea, 
and  adroitly  changed  the  conversation  to 
something  as  foreign  as  possible.  Of  one 
thing  I  became  satisfied  ;  and  that  was, 
that  the  sooner  we  took  our  departure,  the 
better  it  would  be  for  all  parties  ;  for  both 
Prairie  Flower  and  Huntly  were  becoming 
touched  with  a  melancholy  that  I  feared 
might  lead  to  something  more  serious. 

O  O 

Accordingly,  as  soon  as  I  fancied  my 
strength  sufficient  to  encounter  the  fatimie 

•  ^ 

of  a  perilous  journey,  I  announced  mv 
intention  to  Huntly,  and  wrung  from  h'ra 
a  reluctant  consent  to  depart  forthwith. 
My  next  move  was  to  see  Prairie  Flower, 
and  announce  the  same  to  her.  As  chance 
would  have  it,  I  shortly  discovered  her 
just  outside  the  village,  taking  a  stroll  by 
herself — a  habit  which  had  now  become 
with  her  of  daily  occurrence.  Bidding 
my  friend  remain  in  the  village,  I  hasten 
ed  after,  and  presently  overtook  her  ;  but 
so  deep  was  she  buried  in  meditation,  that 
my  steps,  close  behind,  failed  to  rouse  her 
from  her  reverie. 

"  You  seem  lost  in  communion  with 
your  own  thoughts,  sweet  Prairie  Flower," 
I  said,  in  a  cheerful  tone;  "  and  were  I 
bent  on  surprising  you,  I  might  have  done 
so  to  good  advantage." 

She  started,  a  slight  flush  sn  (fused  he? 
pale  features,  and  turning  her  lovely  coun 
tenance  upon  me,  with  an  ex|>res.-i<m  ot 
deep  surprise,  she  rallied  herself  lor  t 
reply. 

"  Really,  I    must   crave    pardon,   lit 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


Leigh ton —  but  I  was  so  engaged  in  re 
flecting  on  —  a  —  various  matters,  that  I 
failed  to  catch  the  sound  of  your  footsteps." 

"  I  saw  you  were  deeply  abstracted,  and 
would  not  have  intruded  on  your  privacy, 
only  that  I  have  a  matter  of  some  little 
moment  to  communicate." 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  rejoined,  turning  dead 
ly  pale  and  trembling  nervously  :  "  I  trust 
nothing  has  happened  to — to — any  one  ?" 

"Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  dear  Prai 
rie  Flower.  I  have  only  come  to  thank 
you,  and  through  you  your  friends,  for  the 
kindness  and  unbounded  hospitality  of  all 
to  myself  and  H«ntly,  and  inform  you 
that  we  are  on  the  point  of  taking  our  de 
parture." 

For  a  moment  after  I  spoke,  Prairie 
Flower  stoo'd  staring  upon  me  with  an 
expression  of  intense  anguish,  her  breast 
hea\  ing  tumultuously,  and  apparently  with 
out  the  power  to  utter  a  syllable  in  reply. 
A*'  length,  placing  her  hand  to  her  throat, 
as  if  she  felt  a  choking  sensation,  she  fairly 
gasped  forth : 

"  Not — not — going — surely  ?  " 

"  I  fear  we  must,  dear  Prairie  Flower," 
I  answered  sadly — for  I  felt  touched  to  the 
very  soul  at  this  unusual  display  of  feeling 
and  sorrowful  regret  at  our  departure — 
coming  too  from  one  to  whom  both  Huntly 
and  I  were  under  such  deep  obligations 
for  the  preservation  of  our  lives,  and  the 
many  kindnesses  we  had  received.  "We 
have  intruded  upon  your  hospitality  too 
long  already,"  I  continued,  "and  have  at 
last  decided  to  depart  immediately." 

"  But — but — your  wounds  ?  " 

"  Are  nearly  healed." 

"  And  your — your — strength  ?  " 

"Sufficient  for  the  journey,  I  think." 

"  And  whi  her  go  you  ?  " 

"  Over  the  mountains — to  Oregon,  or 
California,  as  the  case  may  be." 

"But  have  you  considered  the  dangers  ?  " 

"  Everything." 

"  But  the  Indians  maybe  in  your  path  ?  " 

"  We  must  take  our  chance,  then,  as  be 
fore.  We  have  decided  on  taking  a  new 
route,  however,  and  consequently  will 
avoid  all  ambuscades." 

"  Still  there  are  ten  thousand  dangers 
or  a  new  route.  You  may  get  lost,  get 
ouried  in  the  snows  of  the  mountains,  fall 
over  some  precipice — or,  escaping  all  these, 


get  captured  by  some  roving  tribe  and  put 
to  the  tortures." 

"  There  are  many  dangers,  sweet  Prai 
rie  Flower,  as  you  say  ;  but  had  we  feared 
to  encounter  them,  we  should  never  have 
been  here." 

"  But  you  have  no  horses." 

"  We  can  purchase  them  at  Fort  Lara- 
mie,  together  with  what  other  things  we 
may  need.'' 

"  You  have  no  companions  !  " 

"  We  may  find  some  there,  also — if  not, 
we  can  venture  alone." 

"  But— but .    You  will  go,  then  ?  " 

"  I  fear  we  must — loth  as  we  are  to  part 
from  you  and  your  people,  with  whom  (I 
wish  not  to  flatter  when  I  say  it)  some  of 
the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  have  been 
spent." 

For  some  time  Prairie  Flower  did  not 
reply,  during  which  her  eyes  were  cast 
upon  the  ground,  and  a  look  of  deep  sor 
row  settled  over  her  lovely  features,  and 
her  bosom  lieaved  with  internal  emotions. 
Raising  her  soft,  dark  eyes  again  to  mine, 
I  was  pained  to  behold  them  slightly  dim 
med  with  tears,  which  she  had  striven  in 
vain  to  repress. 

"  I  did  not  think,"  she  said,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "  that  you  would  leave  us  so  soon." 

"  Soon  ?  dear  Prairie  Flower  !  God  bless 
your  noble  soul !  Soon,  say  you  ?  Why, 
have  we  not  been  here  two  long  months 
and  more  ?  " 

"True,"  she  answered,  as  I  fancied  a 
little  reproachfully,  "  I  had  forgotten  that 
the  time  must  have  seemed  long  to  you." 
"  Nay,  sweet  Prairie  Flower,  I  meant 
not  that.  You  are  too  sensitive — you  mis 
construe  me.  I  only  meant,  it  was  long 
for  utter  strangers  to  share  your  hospitali 
ty,  and  trouble  you  with  their  presence." 

"  You  would  not  trouble  us  if  you  staid 
forever,"  she  rejoined,  with  an  air  of  such 
sweet  simplicity,  that  in  spite  of  all  my  as 
sumed  stoicism,  I  felt  a  tear  trembling  ia 
my  eye. 

Prairie  Flower  saw  it,  and  quickly  add 
ed,  with  an  earnest,  tender  expression, 
which  could  only  be  realized  by  being 
seen  : 

"  Oh  sir  !  I  fear  I  have  wounded  your 
feelings  ! " 

No  wonder  Huntly  was  in  love,  if  h« 
had  ever  seen  anything  like  tin's — for  witk 


&i 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


ai\  my  philosophy  and  sober  reasoning,  I 
felt  myself  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  his 
rival. 

"  God  bless  you,  Prairie  Flower  !  "  I 
exclaimed  from  my  very  heart.  "  If  Heav 
en  holds  many  like  you,  no  wonder  it  is  a 
paradise  beyond  mortal  conception." 

"  0,  do  not  compare  me  with  those  who 
dwell  in  that  bright  realm,"  she  quickly 
rejoined ;"  for  I  at  best  am  only  a  poor 
sinful  mortal." 

"  Then  God  help  me  !  "  I  ejaculated — 
"  if  you  are  considered  a  sinner." 

"  But  your — your — friend?"  she  said, 
hesitatingly.  "  Is — he — anxious  to  leave 
us?" 

She  strove  to  assume  an  indifference  as 
she  said  this,  but  the  effort  to  do  so  only 
the  more  exposed  her  feelings,  of  which 
becoming  aware,  she  blushed  deeply,  and 
on  the  conclusion  hung  her  head  in  real 
embarrassment. 

"  No,  dear  Prairie  Flower,  "  I  said,  ap 
pearing  not  to  notice  her  confusion  ;  "  my 
friend  is  not  anxious  to  leave  ;  on  the  con 
trary,  it  was  with  much  difficulty  I  could 
convince  him  of  the  necessity  of  our  im- 
mucliau}  departure,  and  gain  his  consent  to 
set  forth." 

"And  wherefore,  do  you  think,  is  he 
loth  to  go?"  she  asked,  carelessly  turn 
ing  her  head  aside,  and  stooping  to  pick 
a  beautiful  flower  that  was  growing  at 
her  feet. 

"Because  sweet  Prairie  Flower  goes 
not  with  him,"  I  answered,  rather  abrupt 
ly,  curious  to  see  what  effect  such  infor 
mation  would  produce. 

The  next  moment  I  regretted  I  had  not 
hinted,  rather  than  spoken,  this  important 
truth.  As  I  pronounced  the  sentence,  the 
hand  of  Prairie  Flower,  which  already 
clasped  the  stem  of  the  flower  in  the  act 
of  breaking  it,  became  violently  agitated 
and  relaxed  its  hold  ;  while  its  owner, 
raising  her  face,  as  pale  as  death,  stag 
gered  back,  and,  but  for  my  support,  would 
have  fallen  to  the  ground. 

"  Good  Heavens  !  Prairie  Flower,"  I 
exclaimed,  throwing  an  arm  around  her 
•lendei  waist,  and  feigning  ignorance  of 


the  cause  of  her  agitation  ;  "  what  LM 
happened  ?  Are  you  bit,  or  stung  ?  — 
Speak  !  quick  !  tell  me  ! " 

"  A-a-little  weakness — a-a-sudden  weak 
ness — a-a-kind  of  faintness,"  she  stam 
mered,  endeavoring  to  recover  her  compo- . 
sure,  and  evidently  relieved  that  I  had  not 
imputed  her  agitation  to  the  right  cause. 
"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  was  so  affeqted 
before,"  she  continued,  smiling  faintly. 
"  But  I  think  it  will  soon  pass  away.  I 
feel  much  relieved  now.  There,  there — 
thank  you  !  that  will  do.  Quite  sudden, 
was  it  not  ?  " 

"Quite,  indeed!"  I  replied,  adding 
mentally,  "  Poor,  poor  girl  !  how  I  pity 
thee ! — thy  peace  of  mind  is  gone  for 
ever." 

"  But  you  spoke  of  leaving  immediate 
ly,"  she  resumed.  "What  day  have  you 
set  for  your  departure  ?  " 

"  This." 

"  Not  to-day,  surely  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
in  surprise. 

"  So  had  we  determined." 

"But  you  must  not  go  to-day  !  " 

"And  why  not?  " 

"  0,  it  is  not  right  to  leave  us  so  ab« 
ruptly ;  and  besides,  I  have  reasons  for 
wishing  you  to  delay  three  days  at  least  1 " 

"What  reasons  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  now  ;  but  remain, 
and  you  shall  know." 

"  Anything  to  please  you,  swe«>t  Prairi* 
Flower." 

"  Then  I  have  your  promise  ?  " 

"  You  have." 

"  Thank  you  !  thank  you  ! — y«i  will 
not  regret  it.  But  come,  let  us  return  to 
the  village,  for  I  see  the  sun  is  three  good 
hours  above  the  hills,  and  I  have  *  long 
journey  before  me." 

"  What !  are  you  going  to  leave,  th«n  ?  " 

"  I  must !  I  have  important  business. 
But  ask  me  no  questions,  and  do  not  de 
part  till  I  return." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Prairie  Flower 
mounted  on  her  beautiful  Indian  pony,  a* 
I  had  first  beheld  her  at  Fort  Laramie, 
rode  swiftly  out  of  the  village,  unattended, 
and  disappeared  down  the  mountain. 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

RHAIUIE    FLOWER    STILL    ABSENT RESOLVE 

TO  DEPART BID  OUR  FRIENDS  ADIEU SET 

FORWARD   WITH    OUR     GUIDE UNEXPECT 
ED     MEETING    WITH     PRAIRIE     FLOWER 

RETURN    TO    THE    VILLAGE A    SPLENDID 

PRESENT OUR  ROUTE    CHANGED— ^SECOND 

ADIEU PRATRTE    FLOWER  AS  GUIDE OUR 

.LAST  PAINFUL    PARTING  WITH   OUR    SWEET 
BENEFACTRESS. 

THREE  days  dragged  on  wearily — for 
without  Prairie  Flower,  the  Indian  village 
Deemed  gloomy  and  insipid  both  to  Humtiy 
and  myself — and  the  fourth  morning  had 
come,  and  yet  our  fair  benefactress  had  not 
made  her  appearance.  Where  had  she  gone, 
and  wherefore  did  she  not  return?  We  ques 
tioned  several  of  the  villagers;  but  all  shook 
their  heads  and  replied,  some  in  good  and 
some  in  broken  English,  that  they  did  not 
know,  that  she  was  frequently  absent  a 
month  at  a  time,  and  that  she  rarely  told 
on  leaving  where  she  was  going  or  when 
she  would  return.  Perhaps,  then,  her 
journey  was  merely  taken  to  avoid  a  fare 
well  scene,  thinking  we  should  depart  in 
her  absence  ;  and  this  I  mentioned  to 
Huntly,  whose  surmises  I  found  corres 
ponded  with  mine. 

She  has  done  it,"  he   said,  somewhat 
itterly,  "to  put  a  slight  upon  us,  or  rather 
pon    me,  whose    presence   lately   seems 
ost   offensive  to    her ;    and  for  myself 
I  am  going  to  leave  —  you  can  do  as  you 
ike." 

In  this  I  knew  my  friend  was  wrong  al- 
rether;    but  I  did  not  contradict  him — 
or  under  the  circumstances,  I  preferred  he 
hould   think  as  he   did,  rather  than    be 
ade  aware  of  what,  as  I  imagined,  was 
e  true  cause  of  her  actions.     I  therefore 
eplied  : 

"  Let  us  away,  then,  as  soon  as  pos- 
ible." 
"Agreed." 

Upon  this  we  hastened  to  bid  our  Indian 
lends  a  long  adieu,  who  seemed  greatly 
urprised  and  expressed  astonishment  that 
ve  should  leave  so  suddenly,  without  hav- 
ng  given  them  a  previous  notice.  Hav- 
ng  gone  the  entire  rounds,  shook  the  dus- 
f  hands  of  each,  young  and  old — Great 
edicine  not  excepted,  who  enlarged  his 


small,  dark  eyes  to  their  utmost  tension, 
but  merely  grunted  a  farewell — and  thank 
ed  each  and  all  heartily  for  their  hospitality 
and  kindness  to  us  as  strangers,  we  pre 
pared  to  set  out  at  once  for  Fort  Laramie. 
As  the  direct  route  was  unknown  to  us, 
we  inquired  the  way  particularly — where 
upon  a  stout,  rather  good-looking,  intelli 
gent  Indian  youth  volunteered  his  services 
to  act  as  guide — a  proposition  which  we 
readily  and  gratefully  accepted,  witli  a 
promised  reward  when  we  should  arrive 
safely  at  our  destination. 

It  was  a  bright,  clear,  frosty  morning, 
and  the  sun,  just  rising  above  the  moun 
tains,  poured  down  his  radiant  light,  glad 
dening  the  forest  and  our  hearts  witli  his 
presence  ;  and  this,  together  with  the  bra 
cing  air,  the  freedom  we  fancied  we  were 

O 

about  to  experience  after  our  long  confine 
ment,  in  being  once  more  upon  our  journey 
in  good  health,  produced  feelings  of  buoy 
ancy  and  independence,  such  as  we  had  not 
known  for  many  a  long  day. 

Our  gukie  had  left  us,  as  he  said,  to 
make  preparations  for  our  journey,  and  we 
were  already  becoming  impatient  at  what 
we  considered  his  tardiness,  when,  to  our 
surprise,  he  reappeared,  mounted  on  one, 
and  leading  two  horses,  which  he  signifi 
cantly  intimated  were  at  our  service.  This 
was  a  kindness  we  could  fully  appreciate, 
and  of  course  felt  no  desire  to  chide  him 
for  his  delay.  Thanking  him  in  unmea 
sured  terms  for  his  happy  foresight  in  thus 
insuring  us  speed  and  safety  against  fa 
tigue,  we  vaulted  into  the  saddles  with  as 
much  agility  as  if  we  had  never  known  a 
mishap. 

Waving  a  silent  adieu  to  the  villagers, 
who  came  forth  in  a  body  to  see  us  depart, 
we  turned  our  horses'  heads  down  the  hill, 
and  setting  forward,  soon  reached  the  val 
ley,  crossed  the  stream,  and  burying  our 
selves  in  the  forest,  shut  the  Indian  village 
completely  from  our  view. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  exclaimed  Huntly,  gay- 
ly,  as  with  a  spirited  gallop  we  buried  our 
selves  deeper  and  deeper  in  the  forest  of 
the  valley,  "  this  seems  like  old  times — 
eh  !  my  dear  fellow  ?  " 

"  It  does,  indeed  ! "  I  replied  in  the 
same  joyous  manner,  as  I  felt  the  warm 
blood  of  active  excitement  again  cours 
ing  through  all  my  veins. 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER:    OR 


Scarcely  had  the  words  passed  my  lips, 
when  our  guide,  who  was  riding  in  ad 
vance,  suddenly  drew  rein,  brought  his 
horse  to  a  halt,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  She  comes  !  " 

Ere  we  had  time  to  inquire  who,  we  be 
held,  much  to  our  surprise,  the  beautiful 
Prairie  Flower  dashing  up  the  valley  we 
were  descending,  directly  in  our  front.  Of 
course  there  was  no  means  of  avoiding 
her,  had  we  designed  doing  so,  and  ac 
cordingly  we  rode  slowly  forward  to  meet 
her.  As  we  advanced,  I  could  perceive 
that  her  pale  features  looked  unusually 
care-worn,  and  that  her  lips  were  com 
pressed,  as  by  some  inward  struggle  to 
appear  entirely  at  her  ease.  As  we  met, 
she  said,  half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest, 
while  a  slight  flush  tinted  her  cheeks  and 
made  her  sweet  countenance  look  lovely 
beyond  description : 

"  Good  morning,  my  friends.  Not  run 
ning  away,  surely  ?  " 

"  Why,"  I  answered,  in  some  confusion, 
"  we  have  bidden  our  friends  of  the  village 
a  last  adieu,  and  are,  as  you  see,  already 
on  our  journey." 

"  Indeed  !  you  surprise  me  !  And  could 
you  not  have  deferred  your  departure  till 
my  return  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  fact  is — we — that  is  I — we 
waited  three  days — the  time  mentioned  by 
you — and  as  we  thought — that — as  you  had 
not  made  your  appearance — that " 

"  I  would  not  return  at  all,"  she  rejoined, 
completing  the  sentence  which  my  embar 
rassment  forced  me  to  leave  unfinished. 
"  I  truly  grieve,  my  friends,"  she  contin 
ued,  with  a  look  of  sorrowful  reproach, 
"  that,  having  known  me  so  long,  you 
should  be  led  to  doubt  my  word.  Did  I 
ever  deceive  you,  that  you  thought  I  might 
again  ?  " 

"Never!  never!"  cried  both  Huntly 
and  I  in  the  same  breath,  while  the  con 
science  of  each  accused  him  of  having  done 
wrong.  "But  as  the  three  days  had  ex 
pired,"  I  added,  by  way  of  justification, 
"  and  as  none  of  the  villagers  knew  whither 
you  had  gone,  we  feared  to  tarry  longer, 
lest  the  coming  storms  of  winter  should 
catch  us  on  the  mountains." 

•'Perhaps,  then,  you  were  right  after 
ail,"  she  said  with  a  sigh.  "  True,  I  did 
not  return  so  soon  as  I  expected,  on 


account  of  an  unforseen  delay  ;  and  though 
I  did  request  you  not  to  depart  till  I  came 
back,  and  though  I  fondly  relied  on  seeing 
you  again,  still  I  must  admit  that  your  pro 
mise  has  been  faithfully  kept,  and  that  you 
had  a  perfect  right  to  go,  and  I  none  to 
think  you  would  stay  to  your  own  incon 
venience." 

This  was  said  in  a  tone  so  sad,  with 
such  modest  simplicity,  that,  knowing  the 
true  state  of  her  heart,  and  remembering 
that  to  her  generous  nature  and  untiring 
watchfulness  and  care  we  both  owed  our 
lives,  every  word  sunk  like  burning  lava 
into  my  heart,  and  I  felt  condemned  be 
yond  the  power  of  self-defence.  For  a 
moment  I  knew  not  what  nor  how  to  re 
ply,  while  Prairie  Flower  dropped  her  eyea 
to  the  ground  and  seemed  hurt  to  the  very 
soul. 

"  Forgive  us,  sweet  Prairie  Flower  !  "  I 
at  length  exclaimed,  to  the  promptings  of 
my  better  nature.  "  Forgive  us  both,  fof 
having  done  you  wrong  !  I  cannot  exone 
rate  myself,  whatever  my  friend  may  do. 
I  had  no  right  to  doubt  you — no  right  to 
wound  your  feelings  by  leaving  in  a  man* 
ner  so  cold,  so  contrary  to  the  dictates  of 
friendship  and  gratitude.  But  still,  dear 
Prairie  Flower,  if  you  knew  all  my  motives, 
you  would,  perhaps,  blame  me  less  " 

She  looked  up  at  the  last  words,  caught 
the  expression  of  my  eye,  and  seemed  to 
comprehend  my  meaning  at  a  glance  ;  foi 
she  colored  deeply,  turned  aside  her  he£ 
and  quickly  answered : 

"  I  do  not  blame  you.  Let  it  pass.  Bi 
whither  are  you  bound  ?  " 

"  To  Fort  Laramie." 

"  I  trust,  then,  I  have  saved  you  thai 
journey." 

"  Indeed  !  "  I  exclaimed  in  surprise,  a; 
a  new  idea  suddenly  flashed  across  mj 
mind.  "  You  have  been  there,  then  ?  " 

"  I  have." 

"And  all  for  us?" 

"  But  for  you,  I  do  not  think  I  shoul< 
have  gone  at  present." 

"  God  bless  your  noble,  generous  soul ! ' 
I  cried,  feeling  more  condemned  than  evei 
"  How  fortunate  that  we  have  met  you 
that  we  can  at  least  make  the  slight  repa 
ration  of  apology  and  regret  for  havia 
misconstrued  your  motives  !  What  mm 
have  been  your  feelings,  had  you  returnee 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST 


87 


rour  heart  bounding  with  delight  at  hav- 
«>H£  done  us  a  service,  and  found  we  had 
repaid  you  by  leaving  in  your  absence, 
without  even  so  much  as  thanks  for  your 
kindness  !" 

"1  should  have  felt  hurt  and  grieved,  I 
must  own,"  she  answered,  quietly. 

"  It  is  my  fault,  Prairie  Flower,"  said 
Huntly,  riding  up  to  her  side.     "  Blame 
me  for  all,  and  not  my  friend  !     To  speak  j 
plainly,!  fancied  my  presence  was  hateful  to 
you,  and  that  you  had  gone  away,  merely 
Lo  put  a  Slight  upon  me,  by  avoiding  even  to  I 
the  last,  as  you  had  Avoided  me  all  along."  i 

"  You — you  think  this  ?  "  cried  Prairie  | 
Flower,  turning  upon  him  a  look  of  an 
guish  I  shall  never  forget,  and  becoming 
so  agitated  she  could  scarcely  sit  her 
horse.  "  You  think  this  ?  0,  no,  no,  no  ! 
you  did  not,  could  not,  think  I  intended  to 
insult  you  !"  and  she  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands  and  shook  violently. 

"  Great  Heaven  !  what  have  I  done  !  " 
erred  Huntly  in  alarm.  "  Look  up,  sweet 
Prairie  Flower — look  up  and  forgive  me  ! 
If  I  thought  so  then,  I  do  not  think  so 
now,  and  God  pardon  me  for  harboring 
such  a  thought  at  all !  But  I  could  not  un 
derstand  why  you  avoided  me,  unless  it 
was  through  dislike  —  in  which  case  niy 
absence  would  be  little  likely  to  cause  a 
regret.  1  see  my  mistake  now,  and  am 
satisfied  that,  whatever  your  motive  might 
have  been,  it  was  one  which  you  at  least 
fell  to  be  rii»'ht  and  pure." 

"  Indeed  it  was  !  "  returned  Prairie 
Flower,  raising  her  sweet,  sad  face,  and 
her  soft,  dark  eyes  to  his,  and  then  modest 
ly  (iropping  her  gaze  to  the  ground. 

Huntly  seemed  about  to  reply,  but 
paused  and  gazed  silently  upon  Prairie 
Flower,  who,  again  raising  her  eyes,  and 
meeting  a  peculiar  glance  fromhirn,  blushed 
and  turned  her  head  quickly  away.  It 
was  evident  that  both  were  getting  embar- 

o  o 

rassed,  and  I  hastened  to  relieve  them  by 
saying : 

"  And  what  news  from  Fort  Laramie, 
Prairie  Flower  ?  What  of  our  friends  ?  " 

"  I  could  learn  nothing  definite,  save 
that  eight  only,  of  the  sixteen  with  whom 
you  went  into  battle,  returned,  and  that  the 
rest,  including  yourselves,  were  supposed 
to  have  been  killed  or  taken  prisoners. — 
One  of  the  fc  -mer,  I  think  they  called  him 


an  Irishman,  made  great  lamentations  over 
you,  declaring  that  the  Indians  or  wild 
beasts  had  destroyed  you." 

"  Poor  Teddy  !  "  I  sighed  ;  "  he  did  in 
deed  love  us.  But  what  became  of  him.?  " 

"  He  left  a  few  days  after,  with  a  party 
of  trappers." 

"  Then  it  may  be  a  long  time  before  we 
meet  again,  if  ever.  But  do  you  think  we 
can  procure  a  regular  outfit  at  the  fort?" 

"  What  do  you  require  ?  " 

"  Two  good  horses,  a  brace  of  rifles, 
plenty  of  ammunition,  and  three  or  four 
buffalo  skins.  By  the  way,  this  reminds 
me  that  we  left  our  possibles  at  the  fort, 
stuffed  with  clothes,  which  will  now  be  of 
valuable  service." 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  village,"  rejoin 
ed  Prairie  Flower,  "  and  we  will  talk  the 
matter  over." 

"  Why,  as  we  are  so  far  on  the  way,  it 
will  only  cause  us  unnecessary  delay  ;  be 
sides,  we  have  spoken  our  farewells  to  all, 
and  turning  back,  when  once  started  on  a 
journey,  is  said  to  give  bad  luck." 

"  Yet  I  have  but  one  observation  to 
make  to  all  your  objections,"  returned 
Prairie  Flower,  peremptorily  ;  "  and  that 
is,  you  must  come*with  me." 

"  If  you  insist  on  it,  certainly." 

"I  do." 

On  this  we  turned,  without  more  ado, 
and  took  our  way  back,  wondering  what 
new  mystery  .or  surprise  would  greet  us 
next.  The  Indians  appeared  more  rejoiced 
than  astonished  at  seeing  us  again,  and 
crowded  around  us,  and  shook  our  hands, 
with  as  much  apparent  delight  as  if  we 
had  been  absent  a  month. 

"  What  is  the  utmost  limit  of  your  stay 
with  us,  my  friends  ?  "  inquired  Prairie 
Flower. 

"An  hour  is  the  extreme,"  I  replied* 

Upon  this  she  turned  and  addressed  a 
few  words  to  the  young  Indian  who  had 
volunteered  to  act  as  our  guide,  and  then 
bidding  us  dismount  and  follow  her,  she 
led  the  way  into  the  lodge  of  Great  Med 
icine.  Making  some  excuse,  she  went  out, 
and  shortly  returned,  bringing  with  her 
our  rifles  and  plenty  of  powder  and  balL 

"  Now  that  you  are  going,"  she  said, 
"  I  will  restore  you  your  arms,  with  a 
sincere  prayer  that,  with  the  aid  of  Hea 
ven,  they  may  prove  sufficient  to  preserT* 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


youi  lives  from  your  natural  enemies,  the 
savages  and  wild  beasts." 

Here  was  another  unexpected  kindness, 
and  both  Huntly  and  myself  were  profuse 
in  pur  thanks.  Prairie  Flower  then  in 
quired  the  route  we  intended  to  take  ;  and 
being  answered  that  this  would  depend 
much  upon  circumstances,  she  advised  us 
to  cross  the  Black  Hills  some  ten  miles 
south  of  our  present  location,  and  hold 
our  course  westward  over  Laramie  plains, 
Medicine  Bow  Mountains,  and  the  North 
Fork  of  Platte,  to  Brown's  Hole  on  Green 
River,  where  doubtless  we  should  find 
many  trappers,  and  perhaps  some  of  our 
old  acquaintances — giving  as  a  reason  for 
directing  us  thus,  that  there  would  be  less 
danger  from  the  Indians,  who,  notwith 
standing  our  signal  victory  at  Bitter  Cot- 
tonwood,  still  continued  in  parties  along 
the  regular  Oregon  route,  killing  the 
whites  whenever  they  could  do  so  without 
too  much  risk  to  themselves. 

Thanking  Prairie  Flower  for  her  advice, 
I  replied  that,  having  reached  Fort  Lara 
mie,  it  would  be  doubtful  if  we  returned 
ihis  way — that  in  all  probability  we  should 
join  some  party  of  emigrants — or,  failing 
in  this,  take  a  middle  course  and  run  our 
risks. 

"But  I  see  no  necessity  for  your  going 
to  Fort  Laramie,"  she  rejoined. 

"  You  forget,  Prairie  Flower,  that  we 
have  no  horses,  and  it  would  be  foolish  at 
least  to  attempt  such  a  journey  on  foot." 

To  this  she  made  no  direct  reply,  but 
went  on  suggesting  various  things  for  our 
convenience  and  safety,  with  as  much  ap 
parent  concern  for  our  welfare,  as  if  her 
own  life  and  fortunes  were  bound  up  in 
ours. 

At  length  the  conversation  slacked,  and 
thinking  it  a  good  opportunity,  I  declared 
that  our  time  had  expired,  and  that  we 
•  must  start  forthwith. 

"Well,  I  will  not  detain  you  longer," 
replied  Prairie  Flower,  leading  -the  way 
out  of  the  cabin. 

To  our  surprise,  we  found  at  the  door 
two  beautiful  steeds,  (not  the  ones  we  had 
.just  ridden,)  richly  adorned  with  Spanish 
saddles,  bridles,  and  apishamores,*  with 


blankets  of  buffalo  calf-skin,  dressed 


two  sacks  of  jerked  meat  hanging  to  tb« 
horns,  and  four  large  buffalo  skins  strap 
ped  on  behind,  while  along  side  stood  thY 
handsome  pony  of  our  fair  benefactress, 
each  and  all  ready  for  a  start. 

"What  mean  these?"  I  inquired,  turn 
ing  to  Prairie  Flower. 

"  Simply,"  she  answered,  with  the  ut 
most  naivete,  "that  you  must  accept  frcua 
me  these  horses  and  trappings,  without  a 
word,  and  allow  me  to  be  youi  guide  to 
the  point  where  you  will  turn  off  to  crosa 
the  mountains." 

"  But,  Prairie  Flower " 

"  Not  a  word — not  a  single  word — such 
are  the  conditions." 

"But  we  have  money,  and " 

"  Surely  you  would  not  insult  me,"  she 
interrupted,  "  by  offering  \.o  pay  ?  " 

I  saw  by  her  manner  that  to  say  more 
would  only  be  to  offend ;  and  seizing  her 
hand,  I  pressed  it,  with  a  hearty  "  God 
bless  you  !  "  while  my  eyes,  in  spite  of 
me,  became  dimmed  with  tears.  Huntly 
was  too  deeply  affected  to  speak  at  all,  and 
therefore  only  pressed  her  hand  in  silence, 
during  which  the  features  of  Prairie  Flow* 
er  grew  very  pale,  and  she  was  forced  to 
turn  aside  her  head  to  conceal  her  emo 
tion.  We  now  comprehended  all — why 
she  had  gone  to  Fort  Laramie,  and  had 
insisted  on  our  return  with  her  to  the  vil 
lage — and  as  we  recalled  her  former  kind 
ness  and  generosity,  and  our  own  base 
suspicions  of  her  intention  to  slight  us,  the 
result  was  to  make  both  Huntly  and  my 
self  very  sad.  She  had  her  revenge,  we 
felt,  and  a  noble  one  it  was  too. 

Mounting  our  horses,  we  again  bade  a 
silent  adieu  to  the  Mysterious.  Tribe,  and, 
in  company  with  Prairie  Flower,  quitted 
the  village  the  second  time,  with  more  re 
gret  than  the  first,  and  took  our  way 
southward,  in  a  direction  almost  opposite 
our  previous  one. 

As  we  rode  on,  I  noticed  that  our  fair 
guide  became  exceedingly  abstracted,  and 
when  she  fancied  herself  unobserved,  that 
she  frequently  sighed.  Poor  girl !  she  was 
laboring  to  suppress  feelings,  which,  like 
the  pent  up  fires  of  a  volcano,  were  pre 
paring  to  rend  the  tenement  which  confined 
them  ;  and  the  very  thought  clouded  my 
path  with  melancholy.  Huntly,  too,  was 
abstracted  and  silent,  so  that  little  was  aaiJ 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


»n  th<j  w»y  ;  and  though  everything  above, 
around  and  beneath,  seemed  conspiring  to 
make  us  cheerful,  yet  our  thoughts  only 
rendered  our  hearts  the  more  gloomy  by 
contrast. 

A  ride  of  less  than  three  hours  brought 
us  to  a  spot  of  the  mountain  that  seemed 
cf  easy  ascent,  when  Prairie  Flower  drew 
in  rein,  and  said  with  a  sigh: 

"  Y\mr  route  lies  yonder.  Keep  a  little 
to  the  south  of  west,  and  avoid  traveling 
after  dark,  or  you  may  plunge  over  some 
precipice  and  be  dashed  to  pieces." 

Huntly  now  appeared  too  agitated  to 
reply,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could 
myself  summon  words  to  my  aid. 

"And  so,  dear  Prairie  Flower,"  I  at 
length  articulated,  "we  are  to  part  here  ?  " 

"  I  fear  we  must." 

"  Shall  we  ever  meet  again  ?  " 

"  God  only  knows,"  she  answered,  trem 
bling  nervously,  and  dropping  her  eyes  to 
the  ground." 

"  To  attempt  to  express  our  gratitude  to 
you,"  I  rejoined,  "would  be  worse  than 
vnin  ;  words  could  not  speak  it ;  the  heart 
alone  can,  and  that  you  cannot  see,  only 
through  external  expressions.  Of  one 
thipg,  fair  being,  rest  assured  :  that  in  the 
secret  chambers  of  the  souls  of  Francis 
Leighton  and  Charles  Huntly,  is  engraved 
a  name  that  will  never  be  erased — that  of 
the  noble  and  generous  Prairie  Flower." 

"Say  r,o  more — I — I — beg  of  you!" 
she  gasped,  waving  her  hand,  and  -then 
placing  it  to  her  heart,  as  if  to  still  its  wild 
th  robbings. 

"Prairie   Flower,"  said  Huntly,  in   a 
tremulous  voice,  "  if  I  part  without  a  word, 
you  may  think  me  ungrateful.     It  is  not 
so.     Do  not  think  so.     I- 
know  this  heart " 

"  No  more — no  more  ! 


own  trembled  violently,  and  her  lips  re 
fused  a  reply.  The  next  moment,  fearing 
doubtless  the  effect  of  a  longer  trial  of  her 
feelings  and  nerves,  she  turned  her  pony, 
and  signing  me  an  adieu  with  her  hand, 
dashed  rapidly  away,  and  soon  disappear 
ed  from  our  view  in  the  deep  forest. 

Huntly  sighed,  but  made  no  remark,  and 
silently  and  slowly  we  began  our  ascent  of 
the  mountain. 

That  night  we  slept  on  the  brow  of  the 
Black  Hills,  at  a  point  overlooking  a  larg« 
extent  of  the  Laramie  Plains. 


CHAPTE  R    XXI. 

IN  SIGHT  OF  BROWN'S    HOLE A  DASH    DOWH 

THE     MOUNTAIN APPEARANCE      OF     THB 

PLACE — THE    OLD    TRAPPER DISAPPOINT 
MENT EXORBITANT  PRICES A  GAMBLING 

QUARREL A    MOUNTAINEER     DUEZ HOR 
RIBLE  RESULT. 

IT  was  a  beautiful  morning,  not  far  from 
the  middle  of  September,  that,  ascending 
a  hill  at  the  base  of  which  we  had  encamp 
ed  the  night  previous,  we  overlooked  a 
charming  green  valley,  completely  shut  in 
by  hills,  through  the  very  center  of  which, 
like  a  long  line  of  molten  silver,  we  beheld 
a  bright  stream  taking  its  devious  course. 
Not  the  least  agreeable  and  enchanting  to 
to  us,  was  the  sight  of  a  few  shanties,  erect 
ed  along  the  margin  of  the  river,  and  the 
moving  to  and  fro  of  several  white  human 
beings.  And  not  the  less  pleasant  the  sight, 
that  we  had  been  some  two  weeks  on  a  fa 
tiguing  journey  of  more  than  two  hundred 
miles,  over  mountains,  plains,  and  rivers, 
Could  you  without  having  seen  a  solitary  individual 
but  ourselves. 


cried  the  other. 
"  I  oee — I  know — I  understand  all.     Too 

much — too  much.     Go  !  go  !     I Go, 

and  God's  blessing  attend  you  both  !     I 


She  paused,  and  grasped  the  mane  of 
aer  beast  to  save  herself  from  falling. 

"  Then  farewell,"  rejoined  Huntly,  ri 
ding  up  to  her  side  and  extending  his 
hand.  "You.  will  never  be  forgotten  by 
T,e  ;  and  should  we  meet  not  again — then 
—  far-.-well — for-ever." 

Frairie  Flower  clasped  his  hand,  but  her  than  dangerous 


The  valley  we  now  beheld  was  the  point 
of  our  present  destination,  a  rendezvous 
for  the  trappers,  hunters,  and  traders  cf 
this  part  of  the  country,  and  known  as 
Brown's  Hole.  I  have  not  described  our 
journey  hither,  after  parting  with  Prairie 
Flower,  as  but  little  of  interest  to  the  gen 
eral  reader  occurred  on  the  route,  beyond 
fatigue  of  travel,  an  occasional  escape 
from  a  fatal  plunge  over  some  precipice, 
and  one  violent  storm  on  the  Medicine 
Bow,  which  proved  far  more  disagreeable 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


lien-,  then,  we  were  at  last,  in  full  view 
of  what  seemed  to  us  a  paradise  ;  and  a 
simultaneous  shout  of  delight,  not  only 
told  our  feelings,  but  that  our  lungs  were 
still  in  good  order. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  exclaimed  Huntly,  with 
great  animation.  "  \ve  ar$  now  in  a  fair 
way  of  coming  in  contact  with  somebody 
besides  Indians,  and  so  let  us  down  the 
mountain  with  all  the  haste  possible." 

"  Here  goes,  then,  for  a  race,"  I  cried  ; 
and  urging  my  noble  animal  forward,  I 
dashed  down  the  declivity,  to  the  immi- 
'nent  danger  of  myself  and  horse,  followed 
by  Huntly  in  the  same  reckless  manner, 
both  shouting  and  wild  with  excitement. 

Reaching  the  base  of  the  mountain,  we 
galloped  swiftly  over  the  valley,  and 
brought  up  at  last  in  the  center  of  the  en 
campment,  where  curiosity  soon  surround 
ed  us  with  a  medley  of  various  nations  and 
complexions,  all  eager  to  learn  who  we 
were  and  what  our  business.  Here  we 
beheld  Indians  of  different  tribes,  Span 
iards,  Mexicans,  Englishmen,  Frenchmen, 
Creoles,  Canadians,  together  with  Anglo- 
Americans  from  all  parts  of  the  United 
States.  Some  of  these  were  trappers, 
hunters,  traders,  coureur  des  bois,  and  spec 
ulators  in  general — all  congregated  here 
to  carry  on  the  traffic  of  buying  and  sell 
ing — this  one  to  make  money,  and  that  one 
to  squander  his  hard  earnings  in  gambling 
and  dissipation.  Already  had  the  trade  of 
the  -season  opened,  although  the  greater 
part  of  the  trappers  were  not  yet  "  in  " 
from  the  mountains  with  their  furs,  pelts, 
and  robes. 

Outside  the  shanties,  of  which  there 
were  some  half  a  dozen — belonging,  the 
principal  one  to  the  agent  of  the  Hudson 
Bay  company,  and  the  others  to  different 
traders  —  were  built  fires,  around  which 
groups  of  bronzed  mountaineers  were 
squatted,  lost  to  all  consciousness  of  the 
outer  world,  in  the  exciting  games  of  "eu 
chre,"  "poker,"  "seven  up,"  &c.,  <kc. 
In  one  place  was  meat  in  the  process  of 
jerking,  in  another  skins  stretched  over 
hoops  for  drying,  while  here  and  there  was 
a  rude  block  of  graining,  together  with 
various  other  implements  used  in  the  fur 
trade. 

All  these  I  noted  with  a  hasty  glance 
as  I  drew  in  rein,  and  while  the  medley 


crowd,  before  spoken  of,  was  gathering 
around  us.  I  looked  keenly  at  each  as  he 
came  up,  but  failed  to  recognize  a  single 
face,  much  to  my  disappointment,  as  1  had 
been  rather  sanguine  of  here  finding  som« 
of  my  old  acquaintances. 

"  Whar  from  ?  "  asked  a  tall,  dark,  ath 
letic  mountaineer — eyeing  us,  as  I  fancied, 
a  little  suspiciously. 

"  Over  the  mountains,"  I  answered. 

"  Whar's  your  traps  and  beavers  ?  " 

"  We  have  none." 

"  Injins  raise  'em  ?  " 

"  We  never  carried  any." 

"Traders,  hey?" 

"  No." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  Adventurers." 

"  That's  a  new  callin,  spose?" 

"  That  is  ours,  at  all  events." 

"  Fine  bosses  you  got  thar." 

"  Very  good,  I  believe." 

"  Going  to  stop  ?  " 

"  Think  we  shall." 

"  Well,,  ground  yourselves,  put  your 
bosses  to  feed,  and  let's  see  how  you  look.'* 

Upon  this  we  dismounted,  and  while 
doing  so,  Huntly  observed  : 

"I  say,  friend,  do  you  know  most  of  the 
trappers  ?  " 

"  Know  a  heap — all  I  ever  seed." 

"Did  you  ever  see  one,  then,  called 
Black  George  ?  " 

"  D'ye  ever  see  your  own  mother,  stran 
ger  ?  Didn't  I  used  to  trap  with  him  fif 
teen  years  ago  ? — and  hain't  I  fit  him  out 
of  many  a  Injin  snap  ?  Ef  that  ain't 
knowin  him,  jest  tell  me  what  is." 

"That  is  knowing  him  certainly,"  re 
turned  Huntly,  smiling.  "But  have  you 
seen  him  of  late  ?  " 

"  Not  sence  two  year  come  calf  time. 
B'lieve  he  went  over  to  the  States,  or  some 
sich  outlandish  place  or  other." 

*'  Then  I  have  seen  him  since  you." 

"Whar  d'ye  leave  him  ?  "  inquired  the 
other  with  interest. 

"In  an  Indian  fight  at  Bitter  Cotton- 
wood." 

"  I'd  sw'ar  it.  When  Injins  is  about 
he's  always  in,  and  a  few  at  that,  or  I'm 
no  snakes.  But  what  become  on  him? 
Hope  he  did'nt  go  under  !  'x 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  say,  as  my 
friend  here  and  I  were  carried  off  the  field 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE     FAR    WEST. 


Cor  dead,  and  have  not  been  able  to  get 
the  particulars  of  the  battle  since." 

"  He  did'nt  die,  I'll  bet  my  life  on  that ! 
Ef  he  did,  it's  the  fust  timelie  ever  knock 
ed  under  to  sich  varmints." 

"1  suppose,  then,  you  havt  seen  none 
who  were  in  the  tight  ?  " 

"  Never  beared  on't  till  now — so  reckon 
I  havn't." 

"We  fondly  anticipated  meeting  some 
<Sf  them  here." 

"  Its  like  you  may  yit ;  for  ef  they're 
about  in  this  part  o'  creation,  they're  sure 
to  come.  But  turn  out  them  critters,  for 
they  looks  hungry,  and  make  yourselves 
at  home  here.  And  while  I  thinks  on't, 
ef  you've  got  any  bacca,  I'll  trouble  ye 
for  a  chaw." 

As  1  had  some  of  the  desired  article,  I 
proffered  it,  and  received  his  warmest 
thanks  in  return.  We  now  set  about  re 
moving  our  saddles  and  other  appendages, 
and  hoppling  our  horses  ;  while  the  crowd, 
having  stared  at  us  to  their  satisfaction, 
and  found  nothing  particularly  remarkable 
in  our  persons  or  equipments,  gradually 
sauntered  away,  until  we  were  left  entirely 
»to  ourselves. 

Brown's  Hole,  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year,  becomes  a  place  of  considerable  note, 
and  presents  many  of  the  features  of  a 
western  settlement  on  a  holiday.  It  was 
interesting  to  us  to  note  the  avariciousness 
of  the  traders,  and  the  careless  indifference 
of  the  trappers,  in  disposing  of  their  com 
modities.  Dropping  in  daily — sometimes 
singly  and  sometimes  in  parties  from  two 
to  ten,  loaded  with  pelts  and  furs,  in  value 
from  one  hundred  to  several  thousand  dol 
lars —  the  latter  would  barter  them  for 
powder,  lead,  tobacco,  alcohol,  coffee,  and 
whatever  else  they  fancied,  receiving  each 
article  at  the  most  exhorbitant  price,  with 
out  uttering  a  word  of  complaint.  I  have 
seen  powder  sold  to  the  mountaineers  at 
the  enormous  sum  of  from  three  to  four 
dollars  a  pint ;  alcohol  at  double  this  price, 
the  same  measure  ;  coffee  ditto  ;  tobacco 
two  and  three  dollars  per  plug,  and  every 
thing  else  in  proportion.  Money  here  was 
out  of  the  question,  as  much  as  if  it  had 
never  been  in  existence — furs,  pelts,  and 
robes  being  substituted  therefor.  Here  I 
witnessed  gambling  on  every  scale,  from 
'he  highest  to  the  lowest — from  thousands 


to  units — while  every  doubtful  or  mooted 
point  was  sure  to  result  in  a  bet  before 
being  decided.  It  was  nothing  uncommon 
to  see  a  trapper  "  come  in  "  with  three  or 
four  mules,  and  furs  to  the  amount  of  sev 
eral  thousand  dollars,  and  within  a  week 
from  his  arrival,  be  without  the  value  of  a 
baubee  he  could  call  his  own — furs,  inules, 
rifle,  everything,  sacrificed  to  his  insatia 
ble  love  of  gambling.  The  mountaineer 
over  his  cups  is  often  quarrelsome,  and  an 
angry  dispute  is  almost  certain  to  be  set 
tled  in  an  honorable  way  (?) — that  is,  rifles 
at  thirty  yards — when  one  or  the  other 
(sometimes  both)  rarely  fails  to  pay  the 
forfeit  of  his  life.  I  had  not  been  many 
days  in  Brown's  Hole,  ere  I  witnessed  a 
tragedy  of  this  kind,  which  even  now,  as  I 
recall  it,  makes  my  blood  run  cold  with 
horror. 

The  actors  in  this  bloody  scene  were 
two  trappers  of  the  better  class,  of  intelli 
gent  and  respectable  appearance,  neither 
of  whom  had  seen  over  thirty  years,  and 
who,  as  a  general  thing,  were  of  very  sober 
and  quiet  habits.  They  were  from  the 
same  part  of  the  country — had  been  boys 
together — had  started  together  upon  their 
adventures  and  perilous  occupation,  and 
were,  moreover,  sworn  friends. 

Some  three  days  after  our  arrival,  they 
had  made  their  appearance,  well  packed 
with  -pelts  and  furs,  which  they  immedi 
ately  proceeded  to  dispose  of  to  the  traders, 
As  their  trip  had  been  an  unusually  profit 
able  one,  they  of  course  felt  much  elated, 
and  taking  a  drink  together,  sat  down  to  a 
friendly  game  of  cards,  to  while  away  their 
leisure  hours.  More  strict  in  their  habits 
than  most  of  their  associates,  they  rarely 
gambled,  and  then  only  for  diversion.  On 
the  occasion  alluded  to  they  at  once  began 
playing  for  liquor,  and  having  at  length 
drank  more  than  their  wont,  proceeded  to 
stake  different  articles.  As  the  game  pro 
gressed,  they  became  more  and  more  excit 
ed,  until  at  last  their  stakes  run  very  high. 
One  was  peculiarly  fortunate,  and  of  course 
the  luck  of  the  other  was  exactly  the  re 
verse,  which  so  mortified  and  vexed  him, 
that  he  finally  staked  all  his  hard  earnings 
and  lost.  On  this  his  companion  took  an 
other  drink,  grew  more  and  mure  merry  al 
his  own  success,  which  he  attributed  to  his 
superior  skill  in  handling  tke  cards,  and 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


finally  bantered  the  other  to  put  up  his 
mules.  No  sooner  said  than  done,  and  the 
result  was  the  same  as  be-fore.  He  was 
now,  to  use  the  phrase  of  some  of  the  by 
standers,  who  had  crowded  around  the  two 
to  watch  the  game,  "  Han'somely  cleaned 
out."  He  had  staked  all,  and  lost  all,  and 
was  of  course  rendered  not  a  little  des 
perate  by  the  circumstance. 

"  Why  don't  you  bet  your  body  fixins  ?  " 
cried  one. 

Like  a  drowning  man  at  a  straw,  he 
caught  at  the  idea,  and  the  next  moment 
he  and  his  companion  were  deciding  the 
ownership  of  his  costume  by  a  game  of 
euehre.  As  might  have  been  supposed, 
the  result  was  against  him,  and  he  was  at 
last  completely  beggared. 

Seizing  the  half  emptied  can  of  liquor 
by  his  side,  lie  drained  it  at  a  draught,  and 
in  a  tone  of  frenzy  cried  : 

"  Somebody  lend  me  somethin!  By ! 

I  must  have  my  fixins  back." 

"  Luck's  agin  ye  now,"  answered  one. 
"  Better  wait  till  another  time." 

"  No  !  now — now! — by !  now !  "  he 

fairly  screamed.  "  I'll  show  Jim  yet,  that 

I'm  his  master  at  cards  any  day  he 

pleases.  Who'll  lend  me  somethin,  I 
eay  ?  " 

None  seemed  inclined,  however,  to  as 
sist  one  so  signally  unfortunate  ;  and  hav 
ing  waited  a  sufficient  time,  and  finding 
his  appeal  likely  to  prove  fruitless,  the  dis 
appointed  man  rose,  and  in  a  great  passion 
swore  he  would  leave  "such  outlandish 
diggins,  and  the  heathenish  set  that  in 
habit  them." 

"  Whar'll  ye  go  ?"  asked  his  companion, 
in  unusual  glee. 

"  Whar  no  such scamps  as  you  can 

find  me." 

"  But  afore  you  leave,  I  spose  you'll  pay 
your  debts  ?  "  retorted  the  other. 

"  What  debts  ?  " 

"  Did'nt  I  jest  win  your  body  fixins  ?  " 

"Well,  do  you  claim  them,  too?  I 
thought  as  how  you'd  got  enough  without 
them." 

"  ('"nini  all  my  property  wharever  I  can 
find  it,"  returned  the  other,  more  in  jest 
than  earnest.  "Of  course,  ef  you're  go  in 
to  leave,  so  as  I  won't  see  you  agin,  I 
can't  afford  to  trust." 

"  You'ie   a  villain!"  cried    the   loser, 


turning  fiercely  ipon  his  ,'riend :  "  A 
mean,  dirty,  villainous  thief,  and  a  liar  !  " 

"Come,  come,  Sam — them's  hard 
words,"  replied  the  one  cal'ed  Jim,  in  a 
mood  of  some  displeasure. 

"Well  they're  true,  you  know  it,  and 
you  darn't  resent  'em." 

"By !"  cried  the  other,  his  eyet 

flashing  fire,  and  his  whole  frame  trem 
bling  with  a  newly  roused  passion — "I 
dare  and  will  resent  it,  at  any  time  and 
place  you  please." 

"The  time's  now,  then,  and  the  place 
hearabouts." 

"  And  what  the  way  ?  " 

"  Rifles — thirty  paces." 

"Enough,  by !"  and  both  proceeded 

to  get  their  rifles  and  arrange  themselves 
upon  the  ground — a  spot  some  forty  yards 
distant  from  the  encampment  —  whither 
they  were  followed  by  a  large  crowd,  all 
eager  to  be  witnesses  of  a  not  uncommon, 
though  what  often  proved  a  bloody  scene, 
as  was  the  case  in  the  present  instance. 

Selecting  a  level  spot,  the  parties  in 
question  placed  themselves  back  to  back, 
and  having  examined  their  rifles,  each 
marched  forward  fifteen  paces,  and  wheel 
ed  face  to  his  antagonist.  Sam  then  called 
out: 

"All  ready?" 

"  Ready,"  w^s  the  reply. 

"  Somebody  give  the  word,  then,"  re« 
turned  the  first  speaker,  and  at  the  same 
instant  both  rifles  were  brought  to  the 
faces  of  the  antagonists. 

For  a  moment  a  breathless  silence  suc 
ceeded,  which  was  broken  by  the  distinct, 
but  ominous  word, 

"  Fire  ! " 

Scarcely  was  it  uttered,  when  crack 
went  both  rifles  at  once  ;  and  bounding 
up  from  the  earth,  with  a  yell  of  pain,  Sam 
fell  back  a  corpse,  pierced  through  the 
brain  by  the  bullet  of  his  friend.  Jim 
was  unharmed,  though  the  ball  of  the 
other  had  passed  through  his  hat  and 
grazed  the  top  of  his  head.  Dropping  his 
rifle,  with  a  look  of  horror  that  haunts  na« 
still,  he  darted  forward,  and  was  the  first 
to  reach  the  side  of  the  dead.  Bending 
down,  he  raised  the  body  in  his  arms,  and 
wiping  the  blood  from  its  face  with  his 
hands,  called  out,  in  the  most  endearing 
and  piteous  tones: 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


"  Sam  !  Sam  ! — look  up  ! — speak  to  me  ! 
—it's  Jim — your  friend.  I  did  not  go  to 
do  it.  I  was  mad,  or  drunk.  Sam  !  Sam  ! 
speak  to  me  ! — for  Heaven's  sake  speak, 
if  only  once,  and  say  you  forgive  mf  ! 
Sam,  why  don't  you  speak  ?  Oh  !  I  shall 
go  distracted !  My  brain  seems  on  fire! 
You  know,  dear  Sam,  I  would  not  murder 
you — you — my  friend — my  dearly  loved 
friend — the  playmate  of  my  childhood! 
Oh.  speak  !  speak  !  speak  !  0  God  !  speak, 
Sam,  if  only  once  !  It  was  the  cursed 
liquor  that  did  it.  Oh  speak  !  if  only  to 
curse  me  f  0  God  !  0  God  !  he  don't 
answer  me  !  "  cried  the  wretched  man, 
turning  an  anguished,  imploring  look  upon 
the  spectators,  as  if  they  could  give  him  ' 
aid,  and  then  wildly  straining  the  dead 
man  to  his  heart. 

"  He'll  never  speak  agin,"  said  one. 

"  Oh  no  !  do  not  say  that !  "  shrieked 
die  duellist,  "  Do  not  say  that !  or  I  shall 
go  mad.  I  feel  it  here  —  here  —  in  my 
head — in  my  brain.  I  killed  him,  did  I  ? 
I  killed  him — murdered  him — the  only 
friend  I  had  on  earth  ?  And  you  all  stood 
and  saw  me  do  it.  Yes,  I  murdered  him. 
See  !  see  !  thar's  blood — his  blood — I  did 
it— -ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  and  he  ended  with  a 
maniacal*  laugh,  threw  himself  upon  the 
ground,  and  hugged  the  corpse  of  his 
friend  to  his  heart. 

"  Poor  feller  !  "  said  one,  "  he'd  better 
be  taken  into  one  o'  the  lodges,  for  he 
looks  like  he'd  lost  his  sense." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  you  shan't — you  shan't 
part  us ! "  cried  the  frenzied  man,  draw 
ing  his  deai  companion  closer  to  his  heart, 
a.s  some  of  the  party  sought  to  carry  out 
the  suggestion  just  made.  "  No,  no  !  you 
shan't  part  us — never,  never,  never  !  This 
is  Sam,  this  is — Sam  Murdoch — he's  my 
friend — and  we're  goin  a  long  journey  to 
gether — ain't  we  Sam  ?  We'll  never  part 
agin — will  we  Sam  ?  Never  !  never  ! — 0, 
never!  —  ha,  ha,  ha!  Thar!  thar  !  he 
continued,  dropping  the  body,  rising  to  a 
sitting  posture,  and  staring  wildly  at  some 
imaginary  object:  "  I  see,  Sam  —  I  see! 
You're  in  great  danger.  That  rock's 
about  to  fall.  But  hang  on,  Sam — hang 
on  to  that  root!  Don't  let  go!  Jim's 
a-comin.  0  God !  who  j>ut  that  chasm 
thar — that  mountain  gorge — to  separate 
U*  ?  I  can't  git  across.  Help  !  help  1  or 


Sam  will  die.  Yes,  he's  fallin  now  !  Tharl 
thar  !  he's  goin  —  down — down  —  down  ' 
But  heyar's  what'll  meet  you,  Sam. 
Comin  !  comin  !  "  and  whipping  out  hi» 
knife  as  he  said  this,  before  any  one  \vas 
aware  what  he  was  about,  or  had  time  to 
prevent  him,  he  plunged  it  into  his  heart, 
and  gasping  the  word  "  comin,"  rolled 
over  upon  the  earth  and  expired  beside 
his  friend. 

I  had  been  a  silent  witness  of  the  whole 
bloody,  terrible  scene  —  but  my  feelings 
can  neither  be  imagined  nor  described. 
Speechless  with  horror,  I  stood  and  gazed 
like  one  in  a  nightmare,  without  the  power 
to  move,  and  was  only  roused  from  my 
painful  revery  by  Huntly,  who,  tapping  me 
on  the  shoulder,  said  : 

"  Come  away,  Frank — come   away  !  " 

Complying  with  his  request,  I  turned, 
and  together  we  quitted  the  ground,  both 
too  deeply  affected  and  horrified  at  what 
we  had  seen  to  make  a  single  comment. 

The  mountaineers,  with  whom  such  and 
similar  scenes  were  of  common  occurrence, 
proceeded  to  deposit  the  dead  in  a  rude 
grave  .near  the  spot  where  they  had  fallen. 
They  then  returned  to  the  encampment,  to 
take  a  drink  to  their  memories,  coolly  talk 
over  the  "  sad  mishap,"  as  they  termed  it, 
and  again  to  engage  in  their  usual  routine 
of  amusement  or  occupation.  In  a  week 
the  whole  affair  was  forgotten,  or  mention 
ed  only  to  some  new  comer  as  having  hap» 
pened  "  some  time  ago." 

Upon  the  mind  of  myself  and  friend,  it 
produced  an  impression  never  to  be  erased  ; 
and  for  a  long  time,  apparitions  of  the  un 
fortunate  trappers  haunted  my  waking 
senses  by  day,  and  my  dreams  by  night. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

RESOLVE  TO    DEPART DISCOURAGING  OBSER 
VATIONS — FAIL  TO  GBT  A  GUIDE— SET  OUT 

UL^'TAH    FORT — OUR   JOURNEY  TO  UTAH 

LAKE KESOLVE  TO  CROSS    THE    GREAT  IN 
TERIOR    BASIN FIRST    DAY'S    PROGRESS 

CAMP KILL    A    RABBIT SUDDEN    ATTAC1 

FROM  THE  DIGGERS REPULSE  AND  FORTU 
NATE  ESCAPE. 

WE  had  been  a  month  in  Brown's  Hole, 
without   having   seen  or  heard  anything 


94 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


concerning  our  old  acquaintances — during 
which  time  another  mountaineer  had  been 
the  victim  of  a  quarrel,  though  his  death 
we  did  not.  witness — when  I  proposed  to 
Hu'itly  to  set  forward  at  once,  and  leave  a 
place  so  little  adapted  to  our  tastes  and 
fee!  in  •;••;. 

''  But  where  do  you  propose  going, 
Frank  ?  "  inquired  my  friend. 

"  To  California." 

"  But  can  we  find  the  way  by  our 
selves  °  " 

"  We  shall  hardly  find  a  place  less  to 
our  liking  than  this,  at  all  events,"  I  re 
plied. 

"  But  we  are  safe  here,  Frank." 

"  I  presume  Charles  Huntly  does  not 
fear  danger,  or  he  would  not  have  ventured 
westward  at  all." 

"  Enough,  Frank  !  Say  no  more  !  I  am 
your  man.  But  when  shall  we  start?" 

"  What  say  you  for  to-morrow  morn 
ing  ?" 

"  Agreed.  But  perhaps  we  can  hire  a 
guide  ?  " 

"We  will  try,"  I  rejoined. 

But  our  trial  proved  fruitless.  No  guide 
coxilcl  be  found,  whose  love  of  money  would 
tempt  him,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  to 
undertake  the  conducting  of  us  to  Califor 
nia  :  while  on  every  hand  we  were  assailed 
by  the  mountaineers,  with  the  most  start 
ling  accounts  of  dangers  from  Indians, 
from  snows,  from  floods,  from  storms,  and 
from  starvation. 

"You  never  can  fetch  through,"  said 
one.  "  It's  a  fixed  impossibility." 

"  You're  fools  ef  you  undertake  it,"  join 
ed  in  another. 

"  It's  like  jumpin  on  to  rocks  down  a 
three  hundred  foot  precipice,  and  spectin 
to  git  off  without  no  bones  broke,"  rejoin 
ed  a  third. 

"  Ef  you  know  what's  safe,  you'll  jest 
keep  your  eyes  skinned,  and  not  leave 
these  here  diggins,"  added  a  fourth. 

But  these  remarks,  instead  of  discour 
aging  us,  produced  exactly  the  opposite  ef 
fect,  and  roused  our  ambition  to  encounter 
the  formidable  dangers  of  which,  all  were 
BO  tager  to  warn  us.  To  Huntl)  and  my 
self,  there  appeared  something  bold  and 
inanly  in  attempting  what  all  seemed  to 
dread  ;  and  to  each  and  all  I  accordingly 
replied : 


"  It  is  useless,  gentlemen,  trying  to  dis 
courage  us.  We  have  tlecided  on  going, 
and  go  we  shall  at  all  hazards." 

"  All  I've  got  to  say,  then,  is,  that  ii'll 
be  the  last  goin  you'll  do  in  this  world," 
rejoined  the  friend  of  Black  George,  who 
seemed  uncommonly  loth  to  part  with  us. 

The  next  morning  rose  clear  and  cold— • 
for  the  air  in  this  part  of  the  coun  ry  had 
become  quite  frosty — and  agreeably  to  our 
resolve  of  the  preceding  day,  we  equipped 
ourselves  and  horses  once  more,  and  bid 
ding  our  mountaineer  friends  adieu,  set 
forward  in  fine  spirits — shaping  our  course, 
to  the  best  of  our  judgment,  so  as  to  strike 
the  southern  range  of  the  Bear  River 
Mountains,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Utah 
Lake,  which  connects  with  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  on  the  north. 

To  give  our  progress  in  -detail,  would 
only  be  to  describe  a  succession  of  scenes, 
incidents,  and  perils,  similar  to  those  al 
ready  set  before  the  reader,  and  take  up 
time  and  space  which  the  necessity  of  the 
case  requires  me  to  use  for  a  more  imporl- 
ant  purpose.  I  shall,  therefore,  content 
myself  with  sketching  some  of  the  mosit 
prominent  and  startling  features  of  our 
route — a  route  sufficiently  full  of  perils,  as 
we  found  to  our  cost,  to  put  to  ilie  test  the 
temerity  and  try  the  iron  constitution  of 
the  boldest  and  most  hardy  adventurer. 

While  in  Brown's  Hole,  we  had  succeed 
ed  in  purchasing  of  one  of  the  traders,  'it 
i  a  high  price,  a  map  and  compass,  whu  h. 
he    had  designed   especially    for  his  own 
!  use,  and  similar  to  those  we  had  provided 
ourselves  with  on   starting,  but  which,  to 
gether  with  many  other  valuable  articles, 
had  been  left  in  our  possible  sacks  at  Fort 
Laramie. 

On  our  compass  and  map  we  now  placed 
our  whole  dependence,  as  our  only  guide 
over  a  vast  region  of  unexplored  country 
— or  explored  only  by  a  few  traders,  trap 
pers,  and  Indians — Fremont's  Celebrated 
expedition,  which  created  at  the  time  such 
universal  interest  throughout  the  United 
Suites,  not  being  made  till  some  three  or 
four  years  subsequent  to  the  date  of  which 
I  am  writing.  And  here,  en  }>Qs*tira*\ 
would  remark,  that  in  determining  our 
course  for  California,  we  had  particular 
reference  to  the  southern  portion  of  it ;  for 
as  every  reader  knows,  who  is  acquainted 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


mtfc  the  geography  of  the  country,  or  who 
das  taken  the  trouble  to  trace  our  route 
on  the  map — we  were  already  within  the 
northeastern  limits  prescribed  to  this 
mighty  territory. 

Lea'vingthe  delightful  valley  of  Brown's 
Hole,  we  dashed  swiftly  onward  in  a  south 
westerly  direction,  and  our  horses  being 
in  fine  traveling  order,  we  were  enabled 
to  pass  a  long  stretch  of  beautiful  country, 
and  camp,  at  close  of  day,  on  the  banks 
of  a  stream  known  as  Ashley's  Fork. 
Crossing  this  the  next  morning,  we  contin 
ued  on  the  same  course  as  the  day  previ 
ous,  and  night  found  us  safely  lodged  in 
the  Uintah  Fort — a  solitary  trading  post  in 
the  wilderness — which  was  then  garrisoned 
by  Spaniards  and  Canadians,  with  a  sprink 
ling  of  several  other  nations,  together  with 
Indian  women,  wives  of  the  traders  and 
hunters,  who  comprised  the  whole  female 
department. 

Here  we  sought  to  procure  a  guide,  but 
with  the  same  success  as  before — not  one 
caring  to  risk  his  life  by  an  experiment  so 
fool-hardy,  as  undertaking  a  journey  of 
many  hundred  miles,  with  a  force  so 
small,  over  a  pathless  region  of  territory, 
and  either  peopled  not  at  all,  or  by  hostile 
tribes  of  savages. 

The  accounts  we  received  from  all  quar 
ters  of  the  dangers  before  us,  were  cer 
tainly  enough  to  have  intimidated  and 
changed  the  designs  of  any  less  venture 
some  than  we,  and  less  firmly  tixed  in  a 
foolish  determination  to  push  to  the  end 
what  at  best  could  only  be  termed  an  idle, 
boyish  freak.  But  as  I  said  before,  our 
nmbkion  WAS  roused  to  perform  what  all 
wi-re  afraid  to  dare,  and  we  pressed  on 
ward,  as  reckless  of  consequences  as  though 
we  knew  our  lives  specially  guaranteed  to 
as,  for  a  term  of  years  beyond  the  pre 
sent,  by  a  Power  from  on  high.  I  have 
often  since  looked  back  upon  this  period, 
and  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  what  we 
then  dared  ;  and  I  can  now  only  account 
for  our  temerity — our  indifference  to  the 
warnings  we  received — as  resulting  from  a 
kind  of  monomania. 

A  travel  of  some  two  or  three  days, 
brought  us  to  a  stream  called  the  Spanish 
Fork  ;  and  pushing  down  this,  through  a 
wild  gorge  in  the  Wahsatch  Mountains, 
we  encamped  the  day  folk  wing  on  its 


broad,  fertile  bottoms,  near  its  junction 
with,  and  in  full  view  of  the  Utah  Lake. 
We  were  now  in  the  country  of  the  Utalis, 
a  tribe  of  Indians  particularly  hostile  to 
small  parties  of  whites,  and  the  utmost 
caution  was  necessary  to  avoid  falling  into 
their  clutches.  On  either  hand,  walling 
the  valley  on  the  right  and  left,  rose  wild, 
rugged,  frowning  cliffs,  and  peaks  of 
mountains,  lifting  their  heads  far  heaven 
ward,  covered  with  eternal  snows. 

At  this  particular  spot  was  good  grazing 
for  our  horses  ;  but  judging  by  the  appear 
ance  of  the  country  around  us,  and  tne  in 
formation  we  had  received  from  the  moun 
taineers,  we  were  about  to  enter  a  sterile 
region,  with  little  or  no  vegetation — in 
many  places  devoid  of  water  and  game 
(our  main  dependence  for  subsistence) 
peopled,  if  at  all,  the  Diggers  only — an 
animal  of  the  human  species  the  very  lowest 
in  the  scale  of  intellect — in  fact  scarcely 
removed  from  the  brute  creation — who 
subsist  upon  what  few  roots,  lizards  and 
reptiles  they  can  gather  from  the  moun 
tains — sometimes  in  small  parties  of  three 
and  four,  and  sometimes  in  numbers — and 
who,  being  perfect  cannibals  in  their  habits, 
would  not  fail  to  destroy  us  if  possible, 
were  it  for  nothing  else  than  to  feast  upon 
our  carcasses.  Take  into  consideration, 
too,  our  education — our  luxurious  habits 
through  life — our  inability  to  contend  with 
numbers — that  the  only  benefit  we  could 
derive  from  our  expedition  would  be  in 
satisfying  our  boyish  love  of  adventure — 
and  I  think  even  the  most  reckless  will  be 
free  to  pronounce  our  undertaking  fool 
hardy  in  the  extreme. 

So  far,  we  had  been  very  fortunate  in 
escaping  the  savages  ;  but  from  all  appear 
ances  we  could  not  do  so  much  longer ; 
and  what  would  be  the  result  of  our  meet 
ing,  God  only  knew.  We  were  now  on 
the  borders  of  the  Great  Interior  Basin,  a 
region  of  country  containing  thousands  on 
thousands  of  miles,  never  yet  explored  by 
a  white  man,  perhaps  by  no  living  being! 
Should  we  mafee  the  attempt  to  cross  it  1 
We  could  but  lose  our  lives  at  the  worst, 
and  we  might  perchance  succeed,  and  find 
a  nearer  route  to  Western  or  Southern 
California  than  the  one  heretofore  travel 
ed.  There  was  something  inspiring  in  the 
thought ;  and  the  matter  was  discussed  m 


96 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR 


our  lone  camp,  in  the  dead  hours  of  night, 
with  no  little  animation. 

"  What  say  you,  Frank  ?  "  cried  Huntly 
the  next  morning,  rousing  me  from  a  sweet 
dream  of  home.  "Westward  or  south 
ward?" 

"Why,"  I  replied,  "there  is  danger  in 
either  choice — so  choose  for  yourself." 

"Well,  I  am  for  exploring  this  region 
left  blank  on  the  map." 

"  Then  we  will  go,  live  or  die,"  I  re 
joined  ;  "  for  I  long  myself  to  behold 
what  has  never  as  yet  been  seen  by  one 
of  my  race." 

The  matter  thus  decided,  we  mounted 
our  horses,  and  keeping  to  the  south  of 
the  Utah  Lake,  crossed  a  small  stream,  and 
about  noon  came  to  a  halt  on  the  brow  of 
a  high  hill,  forming  a  portion  of  the  Wah- 
satch  range.  Below  us,  facing  the  west, 
we  beheld  a  barren  tract  of  land,  with  here 
and  there  a  few  green  spots,  and  an  oc 
casional  stream  sparkling  in  the  bright 
sunlight,  which  led  us  to  the  inference  that 
there  might  be  oases,  at  intervals  of  a 
day's  ride,  across  the  whole  Great  Basin, 
to  the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  or  Snowy 
Range,  which  divides  it  from  the  pleasant 
valleys  of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin. 

It  was  a  delightful  day,  and  everything 
before  us,  even  the  most  sterile  spots, 
looked  enchanting  in  the  soft  mellow  light. 
Descending  the  mountain  with  not  a  little 
difficulty,  we  set  forward  across  the  plain, 
shaping  our  course  to  the  nearest  point 
likely  to  afford  us  a  good  encampment. 
But  the  distance  was  much  farther  than 
we  had  anticipated,  when  viewing  it  from 
the  mountain  ;  and  although  we  urged  our 
beasts  onward  as  much  as  they  could  bear, 
night  closed  around  us  long  ere  we  reached 
it.  Reach  it  we  did  at  last ;  and  heartily 
fatigued  with  our  day's  work,  we  hoppled 
our  horses,  and  without  kindling  a  fire,  or 
eating  a  morsel  of  food,  rolled  ourselves  in 
our  robes  of  buffalo,  and  fell  asleep. 

The  sun  of  the  succeeding  morning, 
shining  brightly  in  our  faces,  awoke  us  ; 
and  springing  to  our  feet,  w\j  gazed  around 
with  mingled  sensations  of  awe  and  delight. 
Doubtless  we  felt,  in  a  small  degree,  the 
emotions  excited  in  the  breast  of  the  ad 
venturer,  when  for  the  first  time  he  finds 
himself  on  ground  which  he  fancies  has 
Miter  yet  been  trod  nor  seen  by  a  stranger. 


We  had  entered  a  country  now,  which  th« 
most  daring  had  feared  or  failed  to  explore, 
and  we  felt  a  noble  pride  in  tne  thought 
that  we  should  be  the  first  to  lay  before 
the  world  its  mysteries. 

The  point  where  we  had  encamped,  was 
green  and  fertile,  abounding  with  what  is 
termed  buffalo  grass,  with  trees  unlike  any 
I  had  before  seen,  and  with  wild  flowers 
innumerable.  Like  an  island  from  the 
ocean,  it  rose  above  the  desert  around  it, 
covering  an  area  of  a  mile  in  circumfer 
ence,  and  was  watered  by  several  bright 
springs  of  delightful  beverage. 

Turning  our  gaze  to  the  eastward,  we 
beheld  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Wahsatch 
Mountains,  which  we  had  left  behind  us, 
looming  up  in  grandeur ;  while,  to  the 
westward,  nothing  was  visible  but  an  un 
broken,  barren,  pathless  desert.  Here 
was  certainly  a  prospect  anything  but 
charming — yet  not  for  a  moment  did  we 
waver  in  our  determination  to  press  onward. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  on  leaving 
the  village  of  the  Mysterious  Nation,  Prai 
rie  Flower  had  taken  care  to  furnish  us  a 
good  supply  of  jerk  ;  and  this,  by  killing 
more  or  less  game  on  our  route,  we  had 
been  enabled  to  retain  in  our  possession, 
to  be  eaten  only  in  cases  of  extreme  ne 
cessity  ;  consequently  we  did  not  fear  suf 
fering  for  food,  so  much  as  for  water  ;  and 
even  the  latter  we  were  sanguine  of  find 
ing,  ere  anything  serious  should  occur. 
The  only  matter  that  troubled  us  sorely, 
was  the  fear  our  noble  animals  would  not 
be  as  fortunate  as  we,  and  that  starvation 
might  compel  them  to  leave  their  bones  in 
the  wilderness,  and  thereby  oblige  us  to 
pursue  our  journey  on  foot — an  event,  as 
the  reader  will  perceive,  far  more  probable 
than  agreeable. 

As  we  had  eaten  nothing  the  previous 
night,  we  now  felt  our  appetites  much 
sharpened  thereby,  and  looking  around  in 
the  hope  of  discovering  game,  my  eye 
chanced  upon  a  rabbit.  The  next  moment 
the  sharp  crack  of  my  rifle  broke  upon 
the  solitude,  and  the  little  fellow  lay  deau 
in  his  tracks. 

Hastily  dressing  him  and  kindling  a  tire, 
we  were  already  in  the  act  of  toasting  the 
meat,  when  whiz-z-z  came  a  dozen  arrows 
through  the  nir,  some  of  them  actually 
penetrating  our  garments  without  wounding 


ADVENTJRES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST 


is.  ac<f  others  burying  themselves  in  the 
yround  at  our  feet.  Springing  up  with 
t  cry  of  alarm,  we  grasped  our  rifles, 
dioiigh  only  one  was  loaded,  and  turned  to 
took  for  the  enemy.  Upon  a  steep  bluff, 
seme  thirty  paces  behind  us,  we  beheld 
«ome  fifteen  or  twenty  small,  dirty,  miser 
able  looking  savages,  with  their  bows  and 
arrows  in  their  hands,  already  in  the  act 
of  giving  us  another  volley.  • 

"  By  heavens  !  Frank,"  cried  Huntly, 
"  it  is  all  over  with  us  now." 

"  Never  say  die  to  such  dirty  curmud 
geons  as  them,"  I  rejoined,  more  vexed 
than  alarmed.  "  Quick  !  Charley — dodge 
behind  this  tree  !  and  while  I  load,  be 
sure  you  bring  one  of  them  to  his  last  ac 
count  ! " 

While  speaking  I  ran,  followed  by  my 
friend,  and  scarcely  had  we  gained  shelter, 
when  whiz-z-z  came  another  flight  of 
airows,  some  of  them  actually  piercing  the 
tree  behind  which  we  stood. 

"  Quick  !  Charley — they  are  looking  to 
ward  our  horses  !  (These  were  feeding 
within  ten  paces  of  us.)  There  !  they  are 
on  the  point  of  shooting  them.  Take  the 
leader  !  For  heaven's  sake  don't  miss — 
of  we  are  lost!  " 

As  I  spoke,  the  rifle  of  my  .friend  belch 
ed  forth  its  deadly  contents,  and  the  fore 
most  of  our  foes,  who  was  just  on  the 
point  of  discharging  an  arrow  at  one  of 
the  horses,  shot  it  at  random,  and,  with  a 
loud  yell,  fell  headlong  down  the  bluff, 
and  was  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks 
below.  Several  others  had  their  bows 
drawn,  but  on  the  fall  of  their  companion, 
they  also  fired  at  random,  and  approach 
ing  the  bluff,  gazed  down  upon  his  man 
gled  remains,  uttering  frantic  yells  of  rage 
and  grief. 

By  this  time  my  own  rifle  was  loaded, 
and  taking  a  hasty  aim,  I  tumbled  a  sec 
ond  after  the  lirst.  The  savages  were  now 
alarmed  in  earnest,  and  retreating  several 
paces,  just  made  their  faces  visible,  appa 
rently  undecided  whether  to  retreat  or 
attack  us  in  a  body.  This  was  an  impor 
tant  moment;  but  fortunately  for  us,  the 
rille  of  Huntly  was  now  again  loaded,  and 
taking  a  more  careful  sight  than  before,  he 
l<xlgfd  the  tall  in  the  head  of  a  third. 
This  created  a  terrible  panic  among  our 
enemies,  who  fled  precipitately. 


Now  was  our  chance,  and  perhaps  our 
only  chance,  to  escape ;  for  we  knew  no 
thing  of  the  number  of  our  foe,  nor  nt 
what  moment  he  might  return  with  an 
overwhelming  force  ;  and  calling  to  Hunt 
ly,  I  darted  to  my  horse  and  cut  the  teth 
er-rope  with  my  knife  ;  and  so  rapidly  did 
both  of  us  work,  that  in  three  minutes  we 
were  in  our  saddles  and  galloping  away. 

As  we  turned  the  southern  point  of  thig 
desert  island,  we  heard  an  ominous  suc 
cession  of  yells,  and  some  forty  rods  away 
to  the  right,  beheld  a  band  of  at  least 
fifty  Indians,  of  both  sexes,  together  with 
some  twenty  miserable  huts.  This  was 
evidently  their  village,  and,  from  what  we 
could  judge,  they  were  preparing  to  renew 
the  attack,  as  we  had  feared,  when  our  ap 
pearance  apprised  them  of  our  escape. 

To  the  best  of  our  judgment,  tney  were 
Diggers,  and  on  this  oasis  dragged  out 
their  miserable  existence.  Being  divided 
from  us  by  a  ridge,  neither  party  had  been 
aware  of  the  proximity  of  the  other,  until 
the  discharge  of  my  rifle  at  the  rabbit. 
This  it  appears  had  alarmed  them,  and  ex 
cited  an  immediate  attack,  from  the  fatal 
consequences  of  which  kind  Heaven  had 
so  providentially  delivered  us.  We  thought 
seriously  of  giving  them  a  parting  salute- 
particularly  as  they  seemed  to  grieve  so 
much  for  our  departure — but  on  second 
consideration,  concluded  we  would  reserve 
our  powder  and  ball,  not  knowing  how  ne 
cessary  to  self-preservation  these  might  yet 
become  ;  and  so  taking  off  our  hats,  and 
waving  them  a  kind  farewell,  we  dashed 
away  over  the  plain. 


CHAPTER     XXIII. 

A  BARREN  DESERT NO  WATER ALARMIWQ 

CONDITION  OF  OUR  HORSES CAMP A  LIT 
TLE  REFRESHED A  SANDY  DESERT IN 
CREASED  SUFFERINGS DEATH  OF  MT 

FRIEND'S   HORSE — A  DRAUGHT  OF  BLOOD 

CONSULTATION RESOLVE  TO  PRESS  OH 

DEATH  OF  MY  OWN  HORSE AFOOT — A 

TERRIBLE  NIGHT HOPE IN  SIGHT  OF  AS 

OASIS GRATITUDE ALMOST  SUPERHU 

MAN  EXERTIONS A  STREAM 

EXHAUSTION RELIEF. 


INSANITY 


OUR  progress  through  the  day  was  ore? 
an   arid   waste   of  calcareous   formation, 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;    OR, 


Devoid  of  all  vegetation,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  tall,  stiff,  wire-like  weeds,  that 
grew  here  and  there,  where  the  soil  ap 
peared  a  little  moist  and  loomy.  Deep  : 
ravines,  or  cracks  in  the  earth,  in  some  ! 
places  to  the  depth  of  it  might  be  a  thou 
sand  feet,  cut  across  the  ground  in  every 
direction,  and  rendered  everything  like ! 
speed,  or  traveling  after  night,  out  of  the 
question.  These  gullies,  when  very  nar 
row,  we  forced  our  horses  to  leap — but 
frequently  had  to  ride  around  them — on 
account  of  which  our  progress  westward 
•was  slow  and  tedious.  The  sun  here 
seemed  at  least  twenty  degrees  warmer 
than  on  the  highlands  we  had  left  behind 
us;  and  not  having  come  to  any  water, 
we  began  about  mid-day  to  feel  the  op 
pression  of  a  burning  thirst,  while  our 
well  fed  and  well  watered  animals  of  the 
morning,  showed  alarming  signs  of  expe 
riencing  the  same  sensation,  by  lolling 
their  tongues,  occasionally  smelling  the 
earth,  and  snuffing  the  dry  air.  Oh  ! 
what  would  we  not  have  given,  even  then, 
for  a  bucket  of  water,  cool  from  some  deep 
well! 

We  found  no  place  to  noon,  and  conse 
quently  were  forced  to  push  forward,  in 
the-'  nope  of  reaching  an  oasis  for  our 
night's  encampment. 

On,  on  we  went,  our  thirst  increasing 
to  a  "Teat  decree,  while  the  sun  rolled 

O  O  ' 

slowly  down  toward  the  west,  and  yet  no 
thing  around  and  before  us  but  this  same 
dull,  arid  waste.  We  now  began  to  ex 
perience  the  effects  of  our  rashness,  and, 
if  truth  must  be  told,  to  secretly  wish  our 
selves  safely  clear  of  our  undertaking, 
though  neither  breathed  a  word  to  the 
other  of  the  thoughts  passing  in  his  mind. 
Our  horses,  too,  seemed  very  much  fa 
tigued,  and  required  considerable  spurring 
to  hasten  them  forward. 

The  sun  had  now  sunk  within  an  hour 
of  the  horizon,  and  yet  the  same  cheerless 
prospect  lay  before  us.  We  looked  back, 
and  far  in  the  distance,  like  a  mole-hill, 
could  faintly  trace  the  outline  of  the  oasis 
of  our  last  encampment ;  while  beyond, 
the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Wahsatch  glisten 
ed  in  the  sunbeams.  Advancing  a  couple 
of  miles,  we  found  ourselves  compelled  to 
camp  for  the  night,  without  water,  and 
with  nothing  for  our  horses  to  eat;  and 


the  fact  of  this  was  anything  but  ch««t 
ing. 

"What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  Huntly. 
"  We  can  not  long  exist  without  water,  and 
our  poor  beasts  are  already  suffering  to  an 
alarming  degree,  and  will  not  be  likely  to 
hold  out  more  than  one  day  more  at  the 
most." 

"  Well,  I  fancy  by  that  time  we  shall 
come  to  a  spot  similar  to  the  one  behind  us.'* 

"  Then  you  think  we  had  better  go  for 
ward  ?" 

"  I  dislike  the  idea  of  turning  back. 
Besides,  we  should  probably  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  savages,  and  death  here  looks 
full  as  tempting  as  there." 

"But  our  horses,  Frank — poor  beasts  ! 
see  how  they  suffer." 

"  I  know  it,  and  would  to  Heaven  I  could 
relieve  them  !  But  we  cannot  even  help 
ourselves." 

"  Do  you  think  they  can  go  through  an 
other  day  like  this  ?" 

"  I  am  xinable  to  say." 

"  Oh  !  it  would  be  awful  to  be  put  afocil 
in  this  deseit !  " 

"  By  no  means  n,  pleasant  matter,  I  must 
own.  Bui,  ray  friend,  this  is  no  time  to 
got  alanned.  We  have  set  out,  after  beiu^ 
duly  warned,  <ind  must  therefore  make  tl.e 
most  of  the  circ-awstances  we  have  broug'rtt 
upon  ourselves.  If  our  horses  die,  we  musl 
use  their  blood  to  quench  our  thirst." 

"  Heavens  !  Frank,"  exclaimed  Huntly, 
startled  with  a  new  idea,  "  what  if  another 
day's  travel  like  this  should  still  leave  us 
in  the  bare  desert,  with  no  haven  in  sight?  " 

"  Why,  I  should  consider  our  case  near 
ly  hopeless  ;  but  we  will  trust  to  having 
better  fortune."  • 

We  now  ate  some  of  our  meat  with  bul 
little  relish,  and  throwing  ourselves  upon 
the  earth,  at  length  fell  into  a  kind  of  fe 
verish  slumber.  A  heavy  dew  falling  du 
ring  the  night,  refreshed  us  not  a  little. 
At  the  first  streak  of  daylight,  we  were 
again  in  our  saddles,  and  found,  much  to 
our  joy,  that  although  our  poor  bcavs  had 
eaten  not  a  morsel  since  die  morning  pre 
vious,  they,  like  ourselves,  were  consider 
ably  invigorated  by  a  night  of  repose.  Set 
ting  forward  again,  as  cheerfully  as  tin 
circumstances  would  permit,  we  traveled 
some  two  or  three  hours  at  a  fast  amble; 
but  now  the  sun  bey-an  co  be  felt  rathe/ 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR     WEST 


•ensibly,  and  our  beasts  to  flag  and  droop, ' 
while  o'ur  sensations  of  thirst  seemed  in 
creased  ten-fold.  If  this  was  the  case  in 
the  morning,  what  would  be  the  result  ere 
another  night?  We  shuddered  at  the 
thought. 

About  noon,  tne  appearance  of  the 
ground  began  to  change  for  the  worse, 
which,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  was  produc 
tive  of  no  little  alarm.  Gradually  it  be 
came  more  and  more  sandy,  and  an  hour's 
further  progress  brought  us  to  a  desert 
more  barren  than  ever,  where  not  a  living 
thiiv,  vegetable  or  animal,  could  be  seen, 
over  a  dreary  expanse,  that,  for  all  we 
knew,  might  be  hundreds  of  miles  in  ex 
tent. 

To  add  to  the  horrors  of  our  situation, 
our  horses  were  evidently  on  the  point  of 
giving  out — for  as  they  buried  their  feet 
in  the  white,  hot  sand,  they  occasionally 
floundered,  and  reeled,  and  seemed  in 
clined  to  lie  down — while  our  own  throats, 
lips,  and  tongues  began  to  swell,  and  the 
skin  of  our  faces  and  hands  to  blister  and 
crack.  I  recalled  to  mind  the  accounts  I 
had  read  of  bones  being  found  in  the  great 
Arabian  deserts,  and  I  fancied  that  many 
years  hence,  some  more  fortunate  traveler 
mfght  so  discover  ours. 

Cheering  each  other  as  well  as  we  could, 
we  kept  on  for  another  hour,  when  the 
horse  of  Huntly  reeled,  dropped  upon  his 
knees,  and  fell  over  upon  his  side. 

"  Oh  God  !"  cried  my  friend  in  despair, 
"  we  are  lost — we  are  lost ! — a  nd  such  a 
death  !" 

"  Our  last  hope  is  here,"  I  rejoined,  dis 
mounting  and  plunging  my  knife  into  the 
dying  beast ;  and  as  the  warm  blood  spout 
ed  forth,  we  placed  our  parched  lips  to  it, 
and  drank  with  a  greediness  we  had  never 
felt  nor  displayed  for  anything  before. 

This  gave  us  no  little  relief  for  the  time, 
and  added  vigor  to  our  already  drooping 
and  weakened  frames.  But  what  could  it 
avail  us  ?  It  might  relieve  us  now — might 
prolong  our  lives  a  few  hours — only  to  go 
through  the  same  terrible  tortures  and  find 
death  at  last.  Unless  we  could  reach  a 
spring  by  another  day's  travel,  or  come  in 
sight  of  one,  our  case  was  certainly  hope 
less  ;  and  to  carry  us  forward,  we  now  had 
nothing  to  depend  on  but.  our  own  limbs 
and  strength,  while  our  path  must  be  over 


a  bed  of  hot,  loose  sand,  where  every  step 
would  be  buried  ankle  deep. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  sighed  Huntly  at  length, 
"  what  are  we  to  do  now  ?  I  suppose  we 
may  as  well  die  here  as  elsewhere." 

"  No  !  not  here,  my  friend ;  we  will 
make  one  trial  more  at  least." 

"And  have  we  any  prospect,  think  you, 
of  saving  our  lives — of  seeing  another 
green  spot  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  remember  when  on  the 
Wahsatch,  we  saw  some  hills  away  in  the 
distance  ;  and  unless  it  was  an  optical 
illusion,  I  have  a  faint  hope  of  being  able 
to  reach  them  before  this  time  to-morrow." 

"  God  grant  it,  my  friend  ! — for  though 
I  fear  not  death  more  than  another,  there 
is  something  horrible  in  the  thought  of 
leaving  my  bones  here  in  the  wilderness." 

"Well,  well,  cheer  up,  Huntly!  and 
trust  in  Providence  to  carry  us  safely 
through." 

A  farther  consultation  resulted  in  the 
decision  to  await  the  night,  and  if  my  horse 
proved  able  to  proceed,  to  let  him  carry  our 
sacks,  rifles,  <fec.,  while  we  were  to  keep 
him  company  on  foot. 

By  the  time  the  sun  had  fairly  set,  we 
resumed  our  journey  ;  but  after  a  la] "  ri- 
ous  travel  of  half  a  mile,  my  horse  gaTv«'» 
out.  Taking  from  him  a  portion  of  the 
jerked  meat,  our  rifles,  and  such  small  ar 
ticles  as  we  could  not  well  do  without,  we 
left  him  to  his  fate,  with  many  a  sigh  of 
regret. 

It  was  a  clear,  starlight  night,  and  the 
air  just  cool  enough  to  be  comfortable; 
but  unlike  the  preceding  one,  we  no  longer 
had  the  refreshing  dew  to  moisten  our  bo 
dies  and  renew  our  strength.  Still  we  suc 
ceeded  better  than  I  had  anticipated,  and, 
by  exertions  almost  superhuman,  placed 
many  a  long  mile  between  us  and  our 
starting  point,  ere  the  first  crimson  streak 
in  the  east  told  that  day  was  again  dawn 
ing.  To  add  hope  to  our  drooping  spirits, 
we  now  found  the  ground  becoming  more 
and  more  solid,  and  ere  the  sun  pec-red  over 
the  mountains  which  were  almost  lost  to 
view  in  the  distance,  we  set  our  feet  once 
more  upon  hard  earth,  similar  in  appear 
ance  to  that  we  had  quitted  for  the  sands. 
Struggling  on  a  mile  or  two  farther,  we 
ascended  a  slight  elevation,  and,  joy  inex 
pressible  !  beheld  far  away  before  us  a 


100 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR 


rid,ge  of  green  hills.  All  the  extravagant, 
unspeakable  delight  of  the  poor,  ship 
wrecked  manner,  who  has  been  for  days 
tossed  about  by  the  angry  elements.without 
food  to  save  him  from  starvation,  without 
water  to  slake  his  consuming  thirst,  on 
beholding,  in  the  last  agonies  of  despair, 
the  green  hills  of  his  native  land  suddenly 
loom  up  before  him — all  his  unspeakable 
emotions,  I  say,  were  ours  ;  and  silently 
dropping  upon  our  knees,  our  hearts  spoke 
the  gratitude  to  our  All- wise  Preserver 
which  our  tongues  were  unable  to  utter. 
True,  the  famished,  worn  -  out  mariner 
might  die  in  sight  of  land — and  so  might 
we  in  view  of  our  haven  of  rest — yet  the 
bare  hope  of  reaching  it  alive,  gave  ener 
gy  to  our  sinking  spirits,  and  strength  to 
our  failing  limbs. 

Again  we  pressed  forward,  our  now 
swollen  and  bloodshot  eyes  tixed  eagerly 
upon  the  desired  spot,  which,  like  an  ignis- 
fatuus,  seemed  only  to  recede  to  our  ad 
vance.  The  sun,  too,  gradually  rolling 
higher  and  higher,  till  he  reached  the  ze 
nith  of  his  glory,  and  began  to  descend  to 
ward  the  west,  poured  .down  his  scorching 
rays  (for  they  seemed  scorching  to  us  in 
the  desert),  dried  up,  as  it  were,  the  very 
marrow  of  our  bones,  blistered  our  parch 
ed  and  feverish  skins,  and  caused  our 
limbs  to  swell,  till  every  step  became  one 
of  pain  almost  unbearable.  All  our  pre 
vious  sufferings  were  as  nothing,  seeming 
ly,  compared  to  our  present ;  and  when 
vfe  reached  the  bank  of  a  stream,  which 
wound  around  the  base  of  the  hills,  the 
sun  had  already  hid  himself  for  the  day, 
and  we  sunk  down  completely  exhausted  ! 

Huntly,  for  the  last  two  or  three  miles, 
had  shown  symptoms  of  confirmed  insani 
ty — had  often  raved  about  home,  which  he 
declared  was  just  below  him  in  a  pool  of 
clear  water,  which  he,  being  chained  to  a 
rock,  was  not  permitted  to  reach,  although 
dying  of  thirst — and  had  often  turned  to 
me,  with  much  the  look  of  a  ravenous 
beast  about  to  spring  upon  his  prey — so 
that,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  in  my  then 


weak  state,  I  had  succeeded  in  getting 
him  to  the  stream,  where,  as  I  said  before, 
we  both  sunk  down  in  a  state  of  exhaus 
tion.  Had  the  stream  been  a  mile,  or 
even  half  a  mile  farther  oft',  we  -just  both 
have  perished  in  sight  of  that  water  which 
alone  could  save  us.  Weak  and  worn  out 
as  I  was,  I  still,  thank  God !  had  my 
senses — though  sometimes  I  fancied  they 
were  beginning  to  wander — and  I  knew 
that  for  either  to  indulge  his  appetite  free 
ly,  would  be  certain  to  produce  death. 

As  my  friend  seemed  too  feeble  to  move, 
and  as  I  was  in  a  little  better  condition — • 
though  now  unable  to  walk — I  'crawled 
over  the  ground  to  the  stream,  which  was 
not  deep,  and  rolled  into  it,  restraining 
myself  even  then  from  tasting  a  drop,  un 
til  my  body  was  thoroughly  soaked,  and  I 
felt  considerably  revived.  After  a  bath  of 
some  five  minutes,  I  took  a  few  draughts 
of  the  sparkling  element,  and  never  in  my 
life  experienced  such  a  powerful  and  speedy 
change  for  the  better.  Almost  instantly  I 
felt  the  life- renewing  blood  darting  through 
my  veins,  and  I  came  out  of  the  water,  as 
it  were  another  being. 

Hastening  to  my  friend,  I  partially  raised 
him  in  my  arms,  and  dragging  him  to  the 
stream,  tumbled  him  in,  taking  care  to  keep 
a  firm  hold.  In  a  few  minutes  I  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  him  slowly  revive. 
Then  scooping  up  the  water  with  my  hand, 
I  placed  it  to  his  lips,  which  he  drank 
eagerly.  Gradually  his  strength  and  con 
sciousness  returned,  and  with  feelings  which 
none  but  one  in  my  situation  can  ever  know, 
I  at  length  heard  him  exclaim — 

"  Water  !  water  !  Thank  God  !  Frank, 
we  are  saved  !  "  and  falling  upon  the  breast 
of  each  other,  overcome  with  emotions  of 
joy,  our  tears  of  gratitude  were  borne  a>vaj 
upon  the  river  which  laved  our  feet 

Eating  sparingly,  ever  moistening  our 
food,  we  at  last  found  our  farmer  strength 
much  restored  ;  and  fording  the  stream,  we 
threw  ourselves  upon  the  grassy  earth,  and 
tlept  touvdly  that  night  iyx>a  Us  western 
bank. 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE     FAR    WEST. 


101 


CH  VPTER    XXIV. 

CFFECTS     OF     OUR    JOURNEY THE    MYSTERY 

SOLVED EXPLORATION- — GAME A  SUP 
POSED  DISCOVERY  OF  GOLD TRAVELS  RE 
SUMED IN  SIGHT  OF  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA 

INDIANS REACH     THE     MOUNTAINS 

ASCENT TEN   THOUSAND  FEET  ABOVE  THE 

SEA SNOW SUFFERINGS AN     INDIAN 

HUT HOSPITAi  »TY IN  SIGHT  OF  THE  SA 
CRAMENTO ARRIVAL  AT  SUTTER's. 

ON  the  following  morning,  we  found  our 
limbs  so  stiff  and  sore,  as  scarcely  to  be 
able  to  move  about  With  great  difficulty 
we  gained  the  rivei,  and  bathed  ourselves 
in  its  cool,  refreshing  waters,  as  on  the  eve 
ning  previous.  The  result  of  this  seemed 
rery  beneficial  ;  but  still  we  suffered  too 
much  from  our  recent  almost  superhuman 
exertions,  to  think  of  leaving  our  present 
locality  for  a  day  or  two  at  least. 

Looking  back  over  the  desert  which  had 
nearly  cost  us  our  lives,  we  could  barely 
perceive  the  shadowy  outline  of  some  of 
the  highest  peaks  of  the  Bear  River  and 
Wahsatch  Mountains  ;  but  not  a  trace  of 
that  ridge  whereon  we  had  stood  before 
entering  this  unexplored  territory,  from 
whence  we  had  beheld  distant  oases  and 
streams,  none  of  which,  save  the  first,  had 
been  found  on  our  route.  How  this  could 
be,  was  a  matter  of  serious  speculation, 
until  Huntly  suggested  the  fact  of  our  hav 
ing  looked  more  to  the  southward  than 
westward.  His  observation  struck  me 
quite  forcibly  ;  for  I  now  remembered  hav 
ing  examined  our  compass,  shortly  after 
leaving  the  Indians,  and  of  altering  our 
course  to  the  right,  although  previously  I 
remembered,  too,  feeling  somewhat  sur 
prised  at  the  time,  that  we  had  become  so 
turned,  but  had  afterward  forgotten  the 
trifling  circumstance — at  least  what  then 
appeared  trifling — though,  as  events  prov 
ed  finally,  a  circumstance  of  life  and  death. 

This  then  solved  the  mystery  !  We  had 
come  clue  west,  instead  of  west  by  south, 
and  consequently  had  missed  the  very 
points  we  thought  before  us,  and  which 
would  have  saved  the  lives  of  our  poor 
beasts. 

For  two  days  we  remained  on  the  bank 
of  the  stream,  which  we  not  inappropri 
ately  named  Providence  Creek,  without 
venturing  away  the  listance  of  thirty  rods 


during  the  whole  time.  On  the  morning 
of  the  third  day,  we  found  our  limbs  so 
pliable,  and  our  strength  so  far  recruited, 
a$  to  think  ourselves  justified  in  resuming 
our  travels,  or  at  all  events  in  making  an 
exploration  of  the  ridge  above  us. 

Accordingly,  ascending  to  the  summit 
of  the  hill  —  which  was  densely  covered 
with  a  wood  somewhat  resembling  ash, 
though  not  so  large — we  made  out  the  up 
lands  here  to  cover  an  area  of  five  miles 
in  breadth  by  twenty  in  length,  running 
almost  due  north  and  south,  and  composed 
of  two  parallel  ridges,  full  of  springs  of 
fine  water,  some  of  which  ran  outward 
and  formed  the  stream  we  had  first  gained, 
and  others  inward,  forming  another  in  the 
valley  between,  both  ot  which,  taking  a 
southerly  course,  united  on  the  way,  and 
entered  at  last  into  a  beautiful  lake,  bare 
ly  visible  from  the  highest  point,  and 
which  also  appeared  the  grand  reservoir 
of  the  surrounding  country. 

Our  present  locality  was  a  rich  and 
beautiful  desert  island,  and  had  our  horses 
been  here,  they  would  have  fared  sumptu 
ously  on  the  green,  luxuriant  grass  of  the 
valley.  To  the  best  of  our  judgment, 
this  spot  had  never  before  been  visited  by 
human  being,  as  no  signs  indicative  there 
of  could  be  found.  The  only  game  we 
could  discover,  were  a  few  grbund  animals 
resembling  the  rabbit,  and  some  gay  plum 
ed  birds.  We  killed  a  few  of  each,  and 
on  dressing  and  cooking  them,  found  their 
flavor,  especially  the  former,  very  delicious 
and  nutritive. 

In  this  manner  we  spent  a  week  on 
Mount  Hope,  as  we  termed  the  ridge,  mak 
ing  explorations,  killing  game,  &c.,  and 
at  the  end  of  this  time  found  our  wonted 
health  and  spirits  nearly  restored.  We 
knew  not  what  was  before  us,  it  is  true  ; 
but  as  kind  Providence  had  almost  mirac 
ulously  preserved  us  through  so  many 
dangers,  we  no  longer  had  dread  of  our 
journey,  nor  fears  of  our  safely  reaching 
the  valley  of  the  Sacramento,  at  which 
point  we  aimed. 

One  thing  in  our  rambles  struck  us 
quite  forcibly — that  in  the  beds  of  nearly 
all  the  streams  we  examined,  we  found  a 
fine  yellow  substance,  mixed  with  the  dirt 
and  sands,  which  had  every  appearance  of 
gold.  As  we  had  no  means  of  testing 


THE     PRAIR/E     FLOWER;     OR, 


this,  we  resolved  l.o  take  some  along  as  a 
specimen,  and  should  we  escape,  and  our 
surmises  regarding  it  be  confirmed,  either 
return  ourselves,  or  put  some  hardy  Ad 
venturer  in  possession  of  the  secret.  If 
this  were  indeed  gold,  it  must  of  course 
have  its  source  in  some  mine  in  the  vicin 
ity  ;  and  this  important  discovery  alone,  we 
felt,  would  amply  compensate  us  for  all  we 
had  dared  and  suffered  in  venturing  hither. 

The  next  morning,  like  each  of  the  pre 
ceding,  being  clear  and  serene,  we  resolv 
ed  to  depart,  and  again  try  our  fortunes. 
Looking  toward  the  west,  we  beheld  in 
the  distance  another  camping  ground  ;  and 
hastening  down  the  western  slope  of  the 
hills,  we  made  our  way  directly  toward  it, 
over  a  slightly  undulating  country,  less 
sterile  in  its  appearance  than  the  desert 
we  had  crossed  the  previous  week.  We 
were  not  able  to  reach  it  till  after  night 
fall,  and  suffered  more  or  less  through  the 
day  for  want  of  water.  Here  we  again 
found  a  rich  soil,  wooded  with  what  I  be 
lieve  is  termed  the  sage  tree,  and  wa- 
-tered  by  several  delightful  springs  and 
streams,  in  some  of  which  we  bathed,  and 
of  which  we  drank,  much  to  our  relief. 

To  follow  up  our  progress  in  detail, 
would  be  to  take  up  more  space  than  can 
now  be  spared  for  the  purpose,  and,  in  a 
great  measure,  to  repeat,  with  trifling  va 
riations,  what  I  have  already  given. 

Suffice  it,  therefore,  that  our  journey 
was  continued  day  after  day — sometimes 
over  sandy  deserts  of  two  days'  travel, 
which  blistered  our  feet,  and  where  we 
again  suffered  all  the  horrors  of  burning- 
thirst — sometimes  over  rough,  dangerous 

.  , 

and  volcanic  grounds,  along  side  of  giddy 
precipices,  and  yawning  chasms,  and 
adown  steep  declivities,  where  a  single 
misstep  would  have  been  fatal — sometimes 
across  streams  too  deep  to  ford,  and  which 
we  were  obliged  to  swim — subsisting,  a 
.part  of  the  way,  on  roots  and  such  game 
us  we  could  kill,  (our  supply  of  jerk  hav 
ing  given  out,)  and  sleeping  at  night  on 
the  sands,  in  the  open  air,  or  perhaps  un 
der  the  shelter  of  some  overhanging  rock — 
occasionally  drenched  with  a  storm  of  cold 
rain,  without  a  lire  to  dry  our  wet  gar 
ments,  and  suffering  more  or  less  from 
hunger,  and  drought,  and  weariness,  and 
violent  rheumatic  pains. 


Such  was  our  pilgrimage,  over  an  unex 
plored  country  ;  and  yet  through  all  our 
sufferings,  save  the  first,  when  we  lost  our 
horses,  our  spirits  were  almost  ever  buoy 
ant,  and  we  experienced  a  rapturous  de 
light  known  only  to  the  adventuitr. 

Some  six  weeks  from  our  leaving  the 
Wahsatch  range,  we  came  in  sight  of  "he 
lofty  peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nev  ida,  which 
we  hailed  with  a  shout  of  joy,  similar  to 
that  of  a  sailor  discovering  land  after  a 
long,  tedious  voyage,  and  which  awoke 
echoes  in  a  wilderness  never  before  dis 
turbed  by  the  human  voice.  Five  hundred 
miles  of  an  unknown  region  had  been 
passed,  almost  the  whole  distance  on  foot, 
and  now  we  stood  in  full  view  of  our  long 
looked  for  desideratum.  During  this  timo 
we  had  not  seen  a  human  being — always 
excepting  our  unfortunate  friends,  the 
Diggers — which  led  us  to  the  inference, 
that  the  larger  portion  of  this  Great  In 
terior  Basin  was  uninhabited — or,  at  all 
events,  very  thinly  peopled. 

From  this  point  to  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
our  course  now  lay  over  a  rough,  moun 
tainous  country,  well  watered  and  timber' 
ed;  and  on  the  second  day,  we  cairvi 
upon  one  or  two  miserable,  dilapidated 
huts — which,  from  all  appearance,  had  long 
been  untenanted — and  a  mile  or  two  far 
ther  on,  saw  a  small  party  of  savages, 
who,  on  discovering  our  approach,  lied 
precipitately  to  the  highlands — we  proba 
bly  being  the  first  white  human  beings 
they  had  ever  beheld. 

About  noon  of  the  third  day  we  came 
to  a  beautiful  lake,  and  going  round  it, 
reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain  chain, 
bounding  the  Great  Basin  on  the  west, 
just  as  the  sun,  taking  his  diurnal  farewell 
of  the  snowy  peaks  above  us,  seemingly 
transformed  them,  by  his  soft,  crimson 
light,  into  huge  pillars  of  burnished  gold. 
We  now  considered  ourselves  compara 
tively  safe,  though  by  no  means  out  of  dan 
ger  ;  for  our  route,  over  these  mighty 
erections  of  nature,  we  were  well  aware, 
must  be  one  of  extreme  peril.  Unlike  the 
desert,  we  might  not  suffer  for  want  of  wa 
ter — but,  unlike  the  desert,  too,  we  might 
with  cold,  snows,  storms,  and  from  hostile 
savages. 

On  the  succeeding  day  we  began  oui 
ascent.  Up,  up,  up  we  toiled — through 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE     FAR    WEST. 


10* 


<l<:nse  thickets  of  dwarfish,  shrubby  trues 
—through  creeping  vines,  full  of  brambles, 
ihat  lacerated  our  ankles  and  feet,  (we  had 
'ong  been  shoeless,) — up,  up,  up  the  steep 
iLountain  sides  we  struo-o-led — over  rocks 

oo 

which  sometimes  formed  precipices  that 
only  yielded  us  here  and  there  a  danger 
ous  foot-hold — occasionally  leaping  across 
canons,  in  which  the  torrent  of  the  moun 
tain  rolled  murmuring  over  its  rocky  bed 
a  thousand  feet  below  us — on,  on,  up  and 
on  we  pressed  eagerly — sometimes  suffer 
ing  with  fatigue,  and  with  cold,  and  with 
hunger — up  and  on  we  bent  our  steps,  for 
two,  long,  wearisome  days,  ere  we  reached 
the  regions  of  eternal  snow. 

At  last  we  stood  upon  the  very  back 
bone  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  ten  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea,  surrounded  by  a  few 
cedars,  loaded  with  snow  and  ice,  the  for 
mer  underneath  us  to  the  depth  of  many 
fcet — and  gazed  downward,  far,  far  below 
us — upon  the  broad,  barren  plains,  fertile 
uplands,  lovely  valleys,  and  bright,  silver 
streams  and  lakes — with  feelings  that  are 
indescribable. 

A  mile  or  two  farther  on,  we  came  to  a 
pleasant  valley,  through  which  rolled  a 
beautiful  stream.  Here,  collecting  a  sup- 
pi/  of  drift-wood,  we  kindled  a  bright  fire, 
and  disposing  ourselves  around  it,  toasted 
our  already  swollen  and  frost-bitten  feet, 
made  our  supper  of  a  few  roots  and  ber- 
rits  which  we  had  collected  on  the  way, 
and  occupied  most  of  the  night  in  con- 
stiucting  some  rude  moccasins  out  of  a 
quarter  buffalo  robe  which  we  fortunately 
had  brought  with  us. 

Thus  for  several  days  did  we  continue 
our  perilous  journey  —  passing  through 
scenes  of  danger  and  hardship,  that,  if 
detailed,  would  fill  a  volume — sustained, 
in  all  our  trials,  by  a  holy  Being,  to  whom 
we  daily  and  nightly  gave  the  sincere 
orisons  of  grateful  hearts. 

Once,  during  our  mountain  journey,  we 
came  very  nigh  being  buried  in  a  furious 
snowstorm  ;  and  but  for  the  providential 
shelter  of  an  Indian  hut,  ere  durkness  set 
tled  around  us,  this  narrative  in  all  proba 
bility  had  never  been  written.  The  hut 
m  question,  stood  on  the  side  of  the  moun 
tain,  and  was  constructed  of  sticks,  wil 
lows  and  rushes,  well  braided  together,  in 
shape  not  unlike  a  modern  beehive.  The 


tenants  were  an  Indian,  his  squaw,  and 
two  half-grown  children,  all  miserable,  and 
filthy  in  their  appearance.  Our  sudden 
entry  (for  we  did  not  stop  for  etiquette) 
alarmed  them  terribly,  and  they  screeched 
and  drew  back,  and  huddled  themselves 
in  the  farther  corner.  However,  on  mak 
ing  them  friendly  signs,  and  intimating  we 
only  sought  protection  from  the  storm, 
they  became  reassured,  and  offered  us 
some  nuts  of  a  pleasant  flavor,  peculiar  to 
the  country,  and  which,  as  I  learned, 
formed  their  principal  food.  We  spent 
the  night  with  them,  aud  were  treated  with 
hospitality. 

On  leaving  I  presented  the  host  with  a 
pocket-knife,  which  he  received  with  an 
ejaculation  of  delight,  and  examined  curi 
ously.  On  opening 'it,  and  showing  him 
its  uses,  his  joy  increased  to  such  a  degree, 
that,  by  signs,  he  immediately  volunteered 
to  act  as  guide,  and  was  accepted  by  us 
without  hesitation.  He  proved  of  great 
service,  in  showing  us  the  shortest  and 
best  route  over  the  mountains,  and  as  a 
kind  of  bodyguard  against  other  savages, 
whom  we  now  occasional!)  met,  but  whom 
he  restrained  from  approaching  us  with 
any  undue  familiarity. 

On  arriving  in  sight  of  Sutler's  settle 
ment: —  situated  near  the  junction  of  the 
Rio  Sacramento  and  Rio  de  los  America 
nos,  or  River  of  the  Americans — we  gave 
a  wild  shout  of  joy,  and  our  guide  made 
signs  that  he  would  go  no  farther.  As  he 
had  been  with  us  several  days,  and  had 
proved  so  faithful,  we  could  not  bear  he 
should  part  from  us  without  a  further  tes 
timonial  of  our  generosity  and  gratitude. 
Accordingly,  drawing  from  my  belt  a  sil 
ver-mounted  pistol,  I  discharged  it,  show 
ed  him  how  to  load  and  fire  it,  and  then 
presented  it  to  him,  together  with  a  belt- 
knil'e  and  a  good  sivpply  of  powder  and 
ball ;  and  he  went  back  with  all  the  pride 
of  an  emperor  marching  from  the  conquest 
17  another  kingdom. 

Hurrying  forward,  with  feelings  which 
are  indescribable,  we  passed  throuo-h  a 
beautiful  valley,  green  with  blade  °and 
briy-ht  with  flowers  —  through  an  Indian 
village,  where  every  person  appeared  neat 
and  comfortable,  and  well  disposed  toward 
us — and  at  last,  ascending  a  slight  emi 
nence,  just  as  day  was  closing,  beheld 


104 


THE     PRAIRIE    FLOWER;     OR, 


before  us,  not  half  a  mile  distant,  an 
American  fortress,  though  in  a  Mexican 
country,  and  garrisoned  by  Indians. 

In  fifteen  minutes  more  we  had  passed 
the  dusky  sentinel  at  the  gate,  and  entered 
an  asylum  of-  rest  from  our  long  pilgrim 
age.  We  were  received  by  Captain  Sutter 
himself,  who,  gathering  only  a  brief  out 
line  of  our  adventures  and  sufferings,  ex 
pressed  surprise  to  see  us  here  alive,  shook 
our  hands  with  all  the  warm-heartedness 
of  an  American  friend,  and  gave  us  a 
most  cordial  invitation  to  make  his  citadel 
our  home,  so  long  as  we  might  feel  dis 
posed  to  remain  in  the  country. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

OUR     APPEARANCE SUTTER     AND     FORT 

LEAVE    IN    THE    SPRING REFLECTIONS A 

TEAR    PASSED    OVER ON    OUR    RETURN 

THE     ANTELOPE CHASE LOSS     OF     MY 

FRIEND TERRIBLE  \  FEARS DESPAIR 

FEARFUL    RESULTS,    ETC. 

WORN-OUT  ar A  starved-out — our  gar 
ments  all  in  Batters — our  frames  emaciated 
— our  faces  long,  thin  and  sallow  —  with 
sunken  eyes  and  a  beard  of  some  two 
months'  growth— r we  presented  anything 
but  an  attractive  appearance  on  our  first 
arrival  at  Sutler's.  But  with  the  aid  of 
soap  and  water — a  keen  razor — new  rai 
ment,  and  a  couple  of  weeks'- rest  —  we 
began  once  more  to  resemble  civilized  be 
ings,  and  feel  like  ourselves. 

Captain  Sutter  we  found  to  possess  all 
the  retined  qualities  of  a  hospitable  Amer 
ican  gentleman.  He  had  emigrated  to 
this  country,  from  the  western  part  of 
Missouri,  a  year  or  two  previous  to  our 
arrival,  and  had  already  succeeded  in  es 
tablishing  a  fort,  on  a  large  grant  of  land 
obtained  from  the  Mexican  government. 

He  had  succeeded,  too,  in  subduing  and 
making  good  citizens  the  surrounding  In 
dians,  many  of  whom  were  already  in  his 
employ — some  as  soldiers,  to  guard  his 
fortress — some  as  husbandmen  to  till  his 
soil — and  some  as  vaqueros,  or  cow- herds, 
lo  tend  upon  his  kine  and  cattle ;  so  that 
everything  around  gave  indications  of  an 
industrious,  wealthy,  and  prosperous  set 
tler. 


The  fort  itself  was  a  large,  quadrangu 
lar  adobe  structure,  capable  of  being  gar 
risoned  by  a  thousand  men — though  at 
the  time  of  which  I  speak,  the  "whole  force 
consisted  of  some  thirty  or  forty  Indians, 
(in  uniform)  and  some  twenty-five  Amer 
ican,  French,  and  German  employes.  It 
mounted  some  ten  or  twelve  pieces  of  ord 
nance,  and  was  well  supplied  with  other 
munitions  of  war,  most  of  which,  together 
with  a  large  number  of  stock,  agricultural 
and  other  stores,  Sutter  had  purchased 
from  a  neighboring  Russian  establishment, 
prior  to  its  being  withdrawn  from  the 
country.  Its  internal  appearance — its  ar 
rangement  of  carpenter  and  blacksmith 
shops,  store-rooms,  offices,  &c. — so  closely 
resembled  Fort  Laramie,  as  to  make  fur 
ther  description  unnecessary. 

Here  we  remained  through  the  winter, 
amusing  ourselves  in  various  ways — some 
times  in  hunting  among  the  mountains, 
exploring  the  country,  and  fishing  in  th# 
streams — and  at  others,  in  making  our 
selves  masters  of  the  Spanish  tongue, 
which  was  spoken  by  many  of  the  Indiani1 
and  all  of  the  natives.  This  last,  how 
ever,  was  more  for  our  benefit  than  amuse* 
ment — as  we  had  determined  on  a  visit  to 
the  seaport  places  in  the  lower  latitudes 
of  Mexico,  so  soon  as  the  annual  sprijg 
rains,  being  over,  should  leave  the  ground 
in  a  good  condition  for  traveling. 

It  was  some  time  between  the  first  a^d 
middle  of  May,  that,  mounted  upon  a 
couple  of  fiery  horses — which,  decked  otf 
with  all  the  showy  trappings  of  two  com 
plete  Spanish  saddle  equipments,  had  beei 
pressed  upon  us  as  a  present  by  our  gen 
erous  host — we  bade  adieu  to  the  noble- 
hearted  Captain  Sutter  and  family,  and  srt 
out  upon  our  southern  journey. 

As  we  rode  along,  it  was  with  feelings 
of  pleasant  sadness  we  looked  back  over 
the  eventful  past,  and  remembered  that 
about  this  time  a  year  ago,  two  gay 
youths,  fresh  from  college,  were  leaving 
friends  and  home  for  the  first  time,  to  ven 
ture  they  scarce  knew  whither.  And  what 
of  those  friends  now  ?  Were  they  alive, 
and  well,  and)  in  prosperity  ?  Had  their 
thoughts  been  much  on  the  wanderers? 
Had  they  looked  for  our  return?  Had 
they  wept  in  secret  for  our  absence,  an<3 
prayed  daily  for  our  preservation  ?  Ah  I 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


10ft 


y«s,  we  well  knew  all  this  had  been  done  ; 
and  the  thought  that  we  were  still  keep 
ing  them  in  suspense — that  we  were  still 
venturing  farther  and  farther  away — could 
not  but  make  us  sad.  But,  withal,  as  I 
said  before,  it  was  a  pleasant  sadness  ,-  for 
we  secretly  felt  a  delight  in  going  over  new 
scenes — beholding  new  objects.  More 
over,  we  were  now  in  good  health  ;  our 
constitutions  felt  vigorous  ;  and  this  tended 
to  raise  our  spirits. 

What  an  eventful  year  had  the  past  one 
been !  Through  what  scenes  of  trial, 
privation,  suffering,  and  peril  had  we  not 
passed  !  And  yet,  amid  all,  how  had  we 
been  sustained  by  the  hand  of  Omnipo 
tence  !  How  had  we  been  lifted  up  and 
borne  forward  over  the  quicksands  of 
despair  !  And  when  all  appeared  an  end 
less,  rayless  night,  how  had  our  trembling 
souls  been  rejoiced  by  the  sudden  light  of 
hope  beaming  upon  our  pathway,  and 
showing  us  a  haven  of  rest ! 

But  where  would  another  year  find  us  ? 
In  what  quarter  of  the  habitable  globe, 
aud  under  what  circumstances?  Should 
we  be  among  the  living,  or  the  dead? 
The  dead  !  What  a  solemn  thought,  to 
think  that  our  bones  might  be  reposing  in 
the  soil  of  the  stranger — thousands  of 
miles  from  all  we  loved,  and  from  all  that 
loved  us  !  What  a  startling  idea  !  And 
vet,  in  our  journeyings,  how  indifferent, 
how  careless  had  we  been  of  life  !  With 
what  fooihardiness  had  we  even  dared 
death  to  meet  us  !  And  still,  with  all  the 
frightful  warnings  of  the  past  before  us, 
how  recklessly  were  we  plunging  on  to 
new  scenes  of  danger  !  Why  did  we  not 
turn  now,  and  bend  our  steps  homeward  ? 
Had  we  not  seen  enough,  suffered  enough, 
to  satisfy  the  craving  desires  of  youth  ? 

Hume  !  what  a  blessed  word  of  a  thou 
sand  joys  !  With  what  pleasing  emotions 
the  thought  would  steal  upon  our  senses  ! 
What  a  world  of  affection  was  centered 
there  !  What  happy  faces  the  thought  re 
called,  and  how  we  longed  to  behold  them  ! 
Longfed,  ytt  took  the  very  course  to  put 
vime  and  distance  between  us  and  them  ! 
A.nd  this  to  gratify  what  our  sober  reason 
told  us  what  was  only  a  foolish,  boyish 
passion — a  craving  love  of  adventure  ! 

Home. !  In  that  word  1  beheld  the  loved 
faces  of  my  parents.  In  that  word  I  be 


held  the  welcome  visages  of  my  friends. 
In  that  word,  more  than  all,  I  beheld  the 
sweet,  rv^lancholy  countenance  of  Lilian  ! 

Lilian  !  how  this  name  stirred  the,  se 
cret  emotions  of  a  passionate  soul '  H;\d 
I  forgotten  her  ?  Had  I,  through  all  the 
varied  scenes  I  had  passed,  for  a  moment 
lost  sight  of  her  lovely  countenance— of 
her  sweet  eyes  beaming  upon  me  the 
warm  affections  of  an  ardent  soul  ?  No 
I  had  not  forgot,  I  never  could  forget,  her. 
She  was  woven  among  the  libers  of  my 
existence.  To  tear  her  hence,  would  be 
to  rend  and  shatter  the  soul  itself.  Thou 
sands  of  miles  away,  she  was  not  absent. 
She  was  with  me  in  all  my  trials,  suffer 
ings  and  perils.  Present  by  day,  with  her 
eyes  of  love.  Hovering  around  me  in  the 
still  watches  of  night,  as  it  were  the  guar 
dian  angel  of  my  destiny.  Lilian  was 
loved.  Time  and  distance  proved  it. 
Loved  with  a  heart  that  could  never  for 
sake — never  so  love  another.  I  had  done 
her  wrong.  But  should  God  spare  my 
life,  and  permit  us  again  to  meet,  how 
quickly,  by  every  means  in  my  power, 
would  I  strive  to  repair  it. 

Such  and  similar  were  our  thoughts,  as 
we  again  bent  our  steps  upon  a  long  jour 
ney.  But  I  will  not  test  your  patience, 
reader,  with  more.  Neither  am  I  going 
to  weary  you  with  along  detail  of  common 
place  events.  In  other  words,  I  am  not 
going  to  describe  our  journey  to  the  south. 
Like  similar  journeys,  it  was  full  of  fatigue, 
with  here  and  there  an  incident,  or  a  curi 
osity,  perhaps  a  danger — which,  were  I 
making  an  official  report  to  government, 
would  be  necessary  to  note — but  over 
which  you,  doubtless,  would  yawn  and  call 
the  writer  stupid. 

Suffice  it,  then,  that  with  me  you  let  a 
year  pass  unnoted.  That  you  imagine  us 
having  gone  a  thousand  miles  into  the 
heart  of  Mexico,  and,  heartily  sick  and  dis 
gusted  with  our  travels,  the  people,  and 
for  the  most  part  the  country,  you  now  rind 
us  on  our  glad  journey  to  the  north — fully 
determined,  in  our  own  minds,  from  this 
time  forward,  to  let  such  as  choose  go 
among  barbarians  worse  than  savages,  so 
they  seek  not  us  for  companions.  From 
this  sweeping  clause  of  condemnation,  lei 
me  save  the  Mexican  ladies  ;  who,  for  the 
most  part,  exercise  Christian  virtues  w  irthj 


106 


THE     PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


of  a  better  fate  than  being  yoked  ;md  bound 
to  such  lazy,  filthy,  treacherous  brutes  as 
hold  over  them  the  dominion  of  lord  and 
muster.  But  enough!  The  bare  thought 
of  the  latter  puts  me  in  a  passion  ;  and  so 
to  get  an  even  temper  once  more,  let  me 
consign  them  to  oblivious  contempt. 

You  'will  fancy,  then,  that  a  year  has 
passed,  and  that  we,  having  so  far  escaped 
with  our  lives,  are  now  on  our  return  to 
Upper  California,  thence  to  shape  our  route 
to  Oregon,  and  then,  ho  !  for  the  far  dis 
tant  land  of  our  childhood. 

Little  did  we  dream  in  that  happy  mo 
ment  of  contemplation,  of  the  terrible  ca 
lamity  about  to  befall  us.  Little  did  we 
think  that  our  hearts,  bright  with  hope  and 
joy,  were  soon  to  be  clouded  with  woe  un 
utterable — grief  inconsolable.  And  why 
should  we  '?  We  who  had  been  through 
so  many  perils,  and  made  so  many  miracu 
lous  escapes,  where  death  seemed  inevita 
ble — why  should  we  now,  comparatively 
safe,  already  on  our  return,  for  a  moment 
harbor  the  thought  that  a  misfortune,  be 
fore  which  all  we  had  suffered  sunk  into 
insignificance,  was  impending  us  ?  How 
little  does  man  know  his  destiny  !  Poor, 
blind  mortal  !  what  presumption  in  him  to 
attempt  to  read  the  scroll  of  fate  !  But 
let  me  not  anticipate. 

It  was  a  bright,  warm  day  in  the  spring 
of  1842,  that  we  arrived  at  Pueblo  de  los 
Angelos,  where  the  Great  Spanish  Trail 
comes  in  from  Santa  Fe.  We  had  been 
on  the  move  day  after  day  for  nearly  a 
month,  during  which  time  we  had  traveled 
some  five  hundred  miles,  and  our  horses 
were  very  much  fatigued  in  consequence. 
Besides,  their  shoes  being  worn  out  and 
their  feet  sore,  we  resolved  to  remain  here 
a  few  days,  to  have  them  shod,  recruited, 
and  put  in  a  good  traveling  condition,  while 
our  time  was  to  be  spent  in  hunting,  and 
examining  the  country  round  about. 

Giving  our  beasts  in  charge  of  a  respon 
sible  person,  with  orders  to  see  them  well 
attended  to,  we  set  forward  with  our  rifles, 
and  taking  the  Spanish  Trail,  which  here 
ran  due  east  and  west,  we  followed  it  some 
two  miles,  and  then  leaving  it  to  the  right, 
struck  off  into  the  mountains  known  as  the 
Coast  Range. 

About  noon  we  came  to  a  point  where 
'.he  touutry  assumed  a  very  rough  and  wild 


appearance.  Cliff  upon  cliff  rose  one 
the  other,  above  which,  still,  a  few  peaks 
shot  up  far  heavenward,  capped  -with  ever 
lasting  snows.  Tremendous  precipices, 
deep  caverns,  and  wild  gorges,  could  be 
seen  on  every  hand,  full  of  danger  to  the 
unwary  explorer. 

Making  a  hak,  we  were  already  debating 
whether  to  advance  or  retrace  our  steps, 
when,  as  if  to  decide  and  lure  us  forward, 
a  fine  antelope  was  discovered  on  a  rock 
above  us,  not  over  a  hundred  yards  dis-  ' 
tant,  coolly  eyeing  us  from  his  supposed 
sale  retreat.  Scarce  a  moment  elapsed, 
so  quick  were  the  motions  of  each,  ere  our 
pieces,  speaking  together,  told  him  too  late 
of  his  error.  lie  was  wounded,  this  we 
could  see,  but  not  enough  to  prevent  his 
flight,  and  he  turned  and  bounded  over  tha 
rocks  up  the  steep. 

"  By  heavens  !  Frank,"  cried  Huntly, 
with  enthusiasm,  "  here  is  sport  in  earnest. 
Nothing  to  do  but  give  chase.  He  must 
not  escape  us.  Dart  you  up  the  mountain, 
while  I,  by  going  round,  will  perhaps  head 
him  off  on  the  other  side.  At  all  events, 
we  will  soon  meet  again." 

On  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I  sprang 
forward  in  one  direction  and  Huntly  in 
another.  To  the  great  danger  of  my 
neck,  I  clambered  up  the  steep  aclivity, 
over  precipitous  rocks,  gaping  fissures,  and 
through  a  dense  brushwood,  and  stood  at 
last  upon  the  spot  where  we  had  first  seen 
the  goat.  Here  was  a  small  pool  of  blood, 
and  a  bloody  trail  marked  the  course  ot 
the  animal ;  and  I  pressed  on  again,  right 
ly  judging,  from  the  quantity  of  blood  left 
behind,  that  he  could  not  hold  out  any 
great  distance.  But  the  distance  proved 
farther  than  I  had  anticipated,  and  half  an 
hour  found  me  completely  out  of  breath, 
on  the  brow  of  one  of  the  lower  ridges, 
without  having  come  in  sight  of  the  ante 
lope.  Here  the  trail,  more  bloody  than 
ever,  took  a  downward  course,  and  1 
counted  on  finding  the  chase  between  me 
and  the  foot  of  the  hill.  At  this  moment  I 
heard,  as  I  fancied,  the  shout  of  my  friend  ; 
and  thinking  it  one  of  delight,  on  being 
the  first  to  reach  the  goat,  1  gave  an  an 
swering  one  of  joy,  and  descended  rapidly 
on  the  red  trail. 

Within  fifty  yards  of  the  the  valley,  I 
discovered  the  object  of  my  search,  lying 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


107 


on  his  side,  pierced  by  two  bullets,  and  in 
the  last  agonies  of  death.  Applying  my 
knife  to  his  throat,  I  made  an  end  of  his 
sufferings,  and  then  looked  eagerly  around 
for  my  .friend.  He  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  I  called — but  no  answer.  This 
somewhat  surprised  me,  as  I  felt  certain 
of  having  heard  his  voice  in  this  direction. 
Thinking  he  could  not  be  far  off,  I  repeated 
bis  name  at  the  top  of  my  lungs,  but  with 
no  better  success. 

Although  somewhat  alarmed,  I  consoled 
myself  by  thinking  I  must  have  been  mis 
taken  in  the  sound  I  had  heard,  and  that 
at  £>11  events  he  would  soon  make  his  ap 
pearance.  With  this,  I  seated  myself  on 
the  ground,  and  throwing  the  breech  of 
my  rifle  down  the  mountain,  occupied  my 
self  in  loading  it. 

•Minute  after  minute  went  by,  but  no 
Huntly  appeared,  and  I  began  to  grow  ex 
ceedingly  uneasy.  For  a  while  I  fancied 
he  might  be  watching  me  from  some,  near 
covert,  just  to  note  the  eflect  of  his  ab 
sence  ;  but  when  a  half  hour  had  rolled 
around,  and  nothing  had  been  seen  nor 
heard  of  him,  I  became  alarmed  in  earnest. 

Springing  to  my  feet,  I  shouted  his 
name  several  times,  with  all  the  accents  of 
fright  and  despair.  Then  darting  down  to 
the  valley,  I  ran  round  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  making  the  woods  echo  with 
my  calls  at  every  step.  In  half  an  hour 
more  I  had  gained  the  point  where  we 
parU'd  —  but  still  no  Huntly.  God  of 
mercy !  who  can  describe  my  feelings 
then  !  Nearly  frantic,  I  retraced  my 'steps, 
touting  till  my  lungs  were  sore — but,  alas! 
with  no  better  success.  There  lay  the  an 
telope,  as  I  had  left  it,  showing  that  no 
one  had  been  there  during  my  absence. 

Until  the  shades  of  night  began  to  settle 
over  the  earth,  I  continued  my  almost 
frantic  iearch  ;  and  then,  thinking  it  possi 
ble  H1  ntly  might  have  returned  to  the  set 
tlement,  1  set  out  for  Los  Angelos,  with  the 
bpeed  and  feelings  of  madman. 

When  I  arrived  there,  it  had  long  been 
night.  To  my  eager  inquiries,  each  and 
ail  shook  their  heads,  and  replied  that  my 


friend  had  not  been  seen  sine  B  we  departed 
in  the  morning.  Who  could  describe,  who 
imagine,  my  anguish  on  hearing  this  1 
Huntly,  my  bosom  companion,  was  lost. 
Capturud  it  might  be  by  guerrillas,  or  by 
Indians.  Destroyed,  perhaps,  by  some 
wild  beast,  or  by  falling  down  some  preci 
pice,  or  into  some  chasm.  Gone  he  was, 
most  certainly  ;  and  I  wrung  my  hands  in 
terrible  agony,  and  called  wildly  upon  his 
name,  though  I  knew  he  could  not  hear 
me.  So  great  was  my  distress,  that  it  ex 
cited  the  pity  of  the  spectators,  several  of 
whom  volunteered  to  go  back  with  me  and 
search  for  him  with  torches.  The  propo 
sition  I  accepted  eagerly,  and  that  night 
the  mountains  sparkled  with  flaming  lights, 
and  their  deep  recesses  resounded  the 
name  of  my  friend,  and  cries  of  anguish. 
All  night  long  we  searched  faithfully,  and 
shouted  with  all  our  might.  But,  alas  !  all 
to  no  avail.  My  friend  came  not — answer 
ed  not — perhaps  never  would  again. 

When  daylight  once  more  lighted  that 
fatal  spot,  and  those  who  had  assisted  me, 
declared  it  useless  to  search  longer — that 
Huntly  was  either  dead  or  a  prisoner — my 
anguish  exceeded  the  strength  of  my  rea 
son  to  bear,  and  I  became  a  raving  maniac. 

For  two  months  from  that  date,  I  had 
no  knowledge  of  what  transpired  ;  and 
when,  by  the  grace  of  God,  consciousness 
again  returned,  I  found  myself  in  a  feeble 
state,  a  close  prisoner  at  Pueblo  de  los 
Angelos. 

To  a  noble-hearted  Mexican  lady,  wife 
of  a  Mexican  military  officer,  for  her  kind 
ness  to,  and  care  of,  a  forlorn  stranger,  is 
due  a  debt  of  gratitude,  which,  perhaps,  I 
may  never  have  power  to  cancel ;  but 
which,  it  is  my  daily  prayer,  may  be  found 
written  upon  the  eternal  pages  of  the  Great 
Book  of  All -Good. 

In  June,  a  sad,  emaciated,  almost  heart 
broken  being,  I  resumed  my  journey  to  the 
north.  But  alas !  alas !  poor  Charles 
Huntly  !  His  fate  was  still  unknown.  His 
last  words  to  me,  spoken  gaily,  "  At  all 
events  we  shall  soon  meet  again,1"  had  ntrei 
been  fulfilled. 


toe 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

ON     THE      ROCKT      MOUNTAINS  EOMEWARD 

BOUND SAD     REFLECTIONS RAPIU     DE- 

BCENT TWO     ENCAMPMENTS MEET    OLD 

FRIENDS INCOG. THEIR      FRIENDSHIP 

TESTED MAKE   MYSELF  KNOWN FRANTIC 

JOY VISIT    THE    SICK PAINFUL  AND  UN 
EXPECTED  MEETING. 

I  stood  upon  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  1  stood  upon  that  point  of 
land  which  divides  the  rivers  of  the  Atlan 
tic  from  the  Pacific  oceans.  Upon  that 
mighty  barrier,  which  bids  its  gushing  riv 
ulets  roll  eastward  and  westward.  Where, 
springing  from  the  same  source,  as  chil 
dren  from  the  same  parents,  they  are  sep 
arated  by  the  hand  of  fate,  to  end  their 
course  thousands  of  miles  apart. 

I  stood  upon  the  great  dividing  ridge  of 
the  North  American  Continent,  and  cast 
my  eyes  over  a  mighty  expanse  of  territo 
ry.  But  with  what  feelings  did  I  gaze 
sround  me!  Were  they  feelings  of  joy  ! 
NTo  !  they  could  not  be  joyous.  There  was 
one  absent  from  my  side,  that  made  them 
sad.  I  needed  the  bright  eye,  noble  face, 
commanding  form,  warm  heart,  and  strong 
hand  of  one  who  was  now  perhaps  no  more. 
Had  he  been  by — my  now  melancholy  gaze 
had  been  one  of  intoxicating,  enthusiastic 
rapture.  In  every  hill,  in  every  tree,  in 
every  rock,  in  every  rill,  I  would  have  be 
held  something  to  make  my  heart  leap 
with  delight — for  now  I  was  homeward 
bound. 

What  a  strange  creature  is  man  '  It  is 
said  that  he  sees  with  his  eyes — but  I  con 
tend  that  his  heart  gives  color  to  his  vision. 
Jf  not,  why  do  the  same  scenes,  unchang 
ed  in  their  appearance,  to  him  present 
different  aspects?  Why  does  that  which 
to-day  he  beholds  coleur  de  rose,  to-mor 
row  wear  the  sable  hue  of  gloom  ?  Is 
not  the  scene  the  same?  Are  not  his 
eyes  the  same  ?  Ay  !  but  yesterday  his 
heart  was  light  and  bounding  with  joy — 
to-day  it  is  dark  and  oppressed  with  grief 
All  the  change,  then,  lies  in  the  heart. 

Yes  !  here  I  stood — alone — my  face  set 
eastward — my  steps  bent  to  the  still  far 
distant  land  of  my  youth.  What  had  I 
not  been  through,  what  had  1  not  suffered, 
wnoe  quitting  that  roof  under  which  I  had 


known  nothing  but  happiness  and  ease  ? 
In  little  more  than  two  years,  I  felt  I  had 
lived  an  age,  and  even  fancied  my  hair 
growing  gray  at  twenty-two. 

Yes  !  I  was  wending  my  way  to  my  na 
tive  land  ;  but  should  God  permit  me  to 
reach  there  alive,  what  an  unenviable  lot 
was  mine,  to  make  the  home  of  my  friend 
the  house  of  lamentation  and  woe  !  And 
Lilian,  dear  Lilian,  to  whom,  would  to 
God,  I  could  bring  nothing  but  joy  —  I 
must  be  doomed,  too,  to  make  her  weep, 
to  till  her  bright  eyes  with  tears,  and  robe 
her  fair  form  in  funeral  weeds.  Alasl 
alas !  what  bitter  necessity !  How  my 
soul  groaned  in  anguish  at  the  thought, 
until  I  envied  the  supposed  cold  death- 
sleep  of  him  I  wept. 

Such  were  some  of  my  thoughts  and 
feelings,  as  I  commenced  descending  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I 
have  said  nothing  of  my  route  hither,  since 
leaving  Pueblo  de  los  Angelos,  and  forth« 
very  reason  there  was  little  or  nothing  to 
say.  My  horse  had  borne  me  hither  ;  my 
hand  had  guided  him ;  my  food  had  been 
such  as  came  in  my  way  ;  my  sleep  hail 
been  mostly  upon  the  hard  earth  in  th« 
open  air ;  my  route  had  occasionally  be«?a 
pointed  out  to  me — occasionally  had  beer 
taken  at  a  venture  :  I  had  sometimes  h.id 
companions — sometimes  had  traveled  bj 
myself;  and,  lastly,  was  here  now,  alonti, 
and  that  was  the  most  I  knew.  Oppress- 
ed  with  a  burden  of  grief  almost  insup 
portable,  I  had  taken  little  note  of  external 
objects.  With  a  sort  of  instinct,  I  had 
day  after  day,  pursued  my  journey,  pel 
fectly  reckless  of  that  life  which  to  m« 
seemed  more  an  affliction  than  a  comfort 
I  had  been  surrounded  by  dangers  at  all 
times  ;  I  had  been  less  cautious  than  pre 
vious  in  guarding  against  them  ;  and  yel 
here  I  was — alive — in  fair  bodily  health — • 
preserved  how,  and  for  what  purpose,  God 
only  knew. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  August,  and 
the  day  v/as  clear  and  cold,  the  sun, 
some  three  hours  advanced  toward  noon, 
streamed  over  the  scene  his  bright  light, 
but  without  much  apparent  warmth.  The 
north  wind,  sweeping  down  from  th»  icjr 
peaks  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains — 
looming  up  in  rugged  masses  away  to  the 
left — seemed  to  chill  my  very  blood;  anu 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


109 


•purring  my  noble  horse  onward,  I  dashed 
down  the  long  slope  before  me  at  a  fast 
gallop. 

A  little  after  nightfall,  I  came  to  a  ro 
mantic  valley,  shut  in  by  hills,  through 
which  a  bright  stream  rolled,  and  foamed, 
and  murmured  over  its  rocky  bed.  Here 
I  beheld  the  fires  of  two  encampments. 
The  one  nearest  the  bank  of  the  river,  was 
evidently  a  party  of  emigrants  ;  for  by  the 
dim  light,  I  coul  J  just  trace  the  white  out 
line  of  seveial  covered  wagons,  and  a  few 
dark,  moving  objects  near  them,  which  I 
took  to  be  their  animals.  I  could  also  see 
A  few  figures  fritting  to  and  fro,  some 
/ound  the  fire-lights,  and  some  more  dis 
tant — engaged,  to  all  appearance,  in  pre 
paring  the  evening's  repast,  and  settling 
themselves  down  for  the  night.  The  other 
encampment,  separated  from  the  first  some 
thirty  or  forty  rods,  consisted  of  only  one 
fire,  around  which  were  squatted  a  small 
group  of  mountaineers.  To  this  I  directed 
017  horse,  and,  on  coming  up,  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  will  you  permit  a  solita* 
ry  traveler  to  mess  with  you  for  the 
nitfht  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  won't  do  nothin  else,"  re 
plied  a  voice  which  I  fancied  was  not  un 
familiar  to  me. 

Although  this  answer  signified  I  was 
wrlcome  to  join  them,  yet  not  a  man  mov 
ed,  nor  appeared  to  notice  me  at  all. 
This,  however,  did  not  disconcert  me  in  the 
least,  as  I  knew  so  well  the  morose,  semi- 
eocial  habits  of  the  mountaineer,  that,  to 
gain  a  grunt  of  assent  to  my  request,  was 
the  utmost  I  could  expect.  I  therefore 
dismounted,  and,  approaching  the  tire, 
scrutinized  the  faces  of  the  party  closely, 
as,  rolling  out  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke, 
they  remained  fixed  like  posts  in  a  circle, 
their  eyes  apparently  seeing  nothing  but 
the  flames.  Judge  of  my  astonishment, 
reader,  on  discovering  in  this  party  of  five, 
two  of  my  old  acquaintances  —  Black 
George,  and  Teddy  O'Lagherty.  My 
first  impulse  was  to  spring  forward,  and 
make  myself  known  at  once.  But  on 
second  thought,  1  concluded  to  remain 
incog.,  and  see  what  would  be  the  result. 

Removing  the  saddle  and  trappings 
from  my  horse,  I  hoppled  and  left  him  to 
crop  the  green  grass  of  the  valley.  Then 
drawing  nwir  the  firt,  I  squatted  myself 


down  in  the  ring,  just  far  enough  back  to 
bave  a  shade  upon  my  face.  The  trappers 
were  engaged  in  conversation  of  more 
than  ordinary  interest,  and  appeared  not 
to  notice  me  ;  while,  for  my  own  part,  I 
determined  not  to  interrupt  them. 

"  Think  she'll  hevto  go  under,"  observ 
ed  Black  George,  with  an  omincnis  shako 
of  the  head.  Thar's  many  places  better 
to  be  sick  in  nor  this  here." 

"  Ah,  jabers  !  but  it's  har-r-d  now,  so 
it  is,"  rejoizied  Teddy,  looking  very  solemn, 
"  Howty  murther  !  but  I  wish  mesilf  a  doc- 
thor  now — barring  the  physicing,  that  I 
don't  like  at  all  at  all  —  if  ounly  to  make 
the  face  of  that  swaat  crathur  glad,  by 
tilling  her  I  knows  her  mother's  ailment. 
Ochone  !  but  she's  the  purtiest  live'  one 
I've  saan  since  laving  ould  Ireland,  where 
I  wish  mesilf  back  again.  I  could  love 
her,  for  looking  so  much  like  me  young 
masther,  that's 'dead  and  gone,  pace  to  his 
bones.  Ochone  !  this  is  a  sorry  world, 
so  it  is." 

"  How  she  looked,  when  she  axed  for  a 
doctor  of  me,"  observed  another.  "  Ef 
I  hadn't  left  soon,  I'd  a  done  somethin  wo 
manish,  sartin." 

"Augh  !  "  grunted  Black  George,  knock 
ing  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  ;  "sich  sights 
as  them  aint  fit  for  us  mountaineers." 

"Of  whom  are  you  speaking,  friends  ?  " 
I  now  inquired,  deeply  interested. 

"  A  beauthiful  lady,  sir,  and  her  mother 
as  is  sick,"  replied  Teddy,  turning  toward 
me  an  eager  look. 

I  instantly  shaded  my  face  with  my 
hand,  as  if  to  keep  off  the  heat,  and  saw 
I  was  not  recognized. 

"  And  where  is  the  lady  you  speak 
of?" 

"  In  the  wagin,  yonder.  The  ould  lady 
is  sick,  and  they've  not  a  spalpeen  of  a 
docthor  among  'em,  and  the  young  miss 
is  crying  like  she'd  break  her  heart,  poor 
thing !  For  the  matter  of  that,  there's  two 
young  females,  now,  that's  crying  —  but 
only  one  saams  to  be  the  daughther.  May 
be  it's  a  docthor  you  is,  now,  by  your  wee 
look  and  thinness  ?  " 

"  I  was  educated  to  the  profession,  but 
have  never  practiced." 

"  Troth,  it's  no  difference — ye  must  go 
an'  sae  the  lady — for  it's  Heaven  iin:  ye 
here,  I'm  knowing  mesilf." 


110 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


"  Bui;,  T — (I  was  on  the  point  of  speak 
ing  his  name) — but  I  hav.j  no  medicine." 

"  Divil  a-  bit  difference  for  that.  Ye 
must  be  a  filler  saaing  her,  if  ye's  a  docthor 
— and  can  spaak  the  Latin  names  they 
gives,  whin  physic's  short — if  ounly  to 
comfort  the  young  lady  that's  dying  of 
grief" 

"  Well,  well,  I  will  go,"  I  said,  finding 

.  o     '  '  O 

myself  fully  in  for  it,  and  my  curiosity  be 
ing  a  good  deal  excited,  also,  to  see  the 
ladv  whom  all  agreed  in  describing  as 

*  O  O 

beautiful. 

"  Ah  !  that's  a  good  sowl  ye  is  now  !  " 
said  the  warm,  generous-hearted  Teddy, 
who  seemed  as  much  interested  for  the 
fair  stranger,  as  if  she  were  his  own  sister. 
"  It's  a  good  sowl  ye  is,  now,  to  go  and 
sae  her  !  Faith  !  ye  puts  me  in  mind  of 
a  young  masther  I  once  had — voice  and 
nil — barring  that  he  was  a  wee  bit  bether 
looking  nor  you  is." 

"  Indeed  !  And  what  was  your  mas 
ter's  name  ?  " 

"  Och  !  I  had  a  pair  of  'em.  One  was 
Misther  Huntly,  a  lawyer — and  the  other, 
Misther  Leighton,  a  docthor.  It's  the 
docthor  ye  puts  me  in  mind  of  now." 

"  Well,  what  became  of  them  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  sir,"  cried  Teddy,  wiping  the 
tears  from  his  eyes,  "  they  got  killed,  sir. 
The  divilish,  murthering,  baastly  tiefs 
of  Injins  killed  and  ate  'em.  Ochone  ! 
ochone !  "  and  he  rung  his  brands  at  the 
bare  thought,  and  sobbed  for  very  grief. 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  take  it  to  heart  as 
much  as  if  they  were  related  to  you." 

"  And  so  would  you,  an'  ye'd  a  knowed 
'em,  sir.  They  was  two  sich  swant  youths  ! 
Pertict  gintlemen,  and  jist  from  college,  as 
I  heard  'em  say  mysilf.  Ochone  !  but  I'd 
a  died  for  'em  asy,  and  no  questions  axed, 
an'  they'd  a  towld  me  to." 

"  Li'ighton!  Leighton!"  repeated  I,  mu 
singly,  'as  if  trying  to  remember  where  1 
hadf  before  heard  the  name.  "  Leighton  ! 
fresh  from  college,  say  you  ?  Was  the 
one  you  term  doctor,  from  Boston  ?  " 

''Ah,  troth  was  he!"  cried  Teddy, 
jumping  up  in  excitement.  "  Then  ye 
know  him,  sir,  it  may  be,  by  your  way  of 
Bpakin^r,  jist  ?  " 

"  I  know  enough  of  him,"  I  answered, 
now  fully  determined  on  putting  Teddy's 
friendship  to  the  test. 


"  Arrah  !  sir,  and  what  d'ye  niaan  by- 
saying  the  likes  of  that,  now  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  Why,  my  meaning 
is  very  simple.  I  know  that  this  fellow 
you  are  so  fond  of  lauding,  is  not  a  whit 
better  than  I  am." 

"  And  I  maan  ye're  a  dirthy,  spalpeen 
blaggard — docthor  or  no  doclhor — jist  for 
spaking  in  that  contimptible  manner  of 
the  finest  gintleman  as  was  iver  saan  and 
no  exceptions  made  to  your  dirthy  self, 
that's  not  worth  the  snap  of  me  finger! 
Whoop  !  ye  blaggard  !  don't  be  grinning 
that  way  at  your  bethers — but  jist  come 
out  here  like  a  man,  ye  cowardly  tief  !  and 
sac-  what  I'll  taach  ye  !  Whoop  !  " 

Here  the  Irishman  jumped  up  and  crack 
ed  his  heels,  and  made  several  warlike  de 
monstrations  with  his  fists,  much  to  my 
amusement  and  satisfaction.  The  trappers, 
too,  gathered  themselves  upon  their  feet, 
in  anticipation  of  a  fight ;  arid  as  I  show 
ed  no  disposition  to  reply  to  Teddy,  Blach 
George  turned  his  dark  visage  to  me,  and 
said,  grufily  : 

"  Come,  young  chap,  you've  got  to  chaw 
them  words  you've  jest  put  travelin,  01 
git  licked  afore  you  ken  say  beans." 

"  What  have'l  said  ?  "  1  replied,  find 
ing  the  matter  becoming  serious,  and  pro 
tending  to  exculpate  myself.  ''  I  merely 
intimated  that  Mr.  Leighton  was  no  better 
than  myself;  and  what  more  could  I  say, 
when  of  course  I  think  myself  as  good  as 
anybody  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  all  very  well,  boy,  for  you 
to  talk,"  returned  Black  George  ;  "  but 
heyar's  what  knows  a  insult  from  a  bea 
ver,  I  reckons ;  and  ef  you  don't  chaw 
them  words  in  less  nor  two  minutes,  and 
own  up  you  aint  no  equal  to  him  you've 
spoke  aginst,  I'll  ram  some  fodder  down 
your  gullet  you  won't  swoller  easy — el  1 
don't,  I  hope  I  may  be  dogged  for  a  dirty 
skunk  all  my  life  ! "  and  he  ended  by 
shaking  his  fist  rather  nearer  my  face  than 
was  agreeable. 

"  Yes,  and  now  be  takin  thim  bark  !  " 
roared  Teddy,  making  preparations  to 
spring  upon  me,  "  or  I'll  turn  ye  inside 
out,  and  shake  ye  as  I  used  me  masther's 
carpet-bag,  that's  dead  and  gone — not  the 
bag,  but  the  masther,  ye  blaggard  ye  1 " 

1  now  found,  that  to  restore  myself  to 
the  good  graces  of  iny  friends,  I  should 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


Ill 


be  obliged  to  own  myself  a  falsifier,  or 
make  myself  known.  As  I  had  fully 
tested  their  friendship  for  my  absent  self, 
I  chose  the  latter. 

"  fJentlemcn,"  I  rejoined,  mildly,  "  I 
tau  prove  everything  I  have  said  ;  and 
even  you  will  acknowledge  it,  when  I  tell 
you  who  I  am.  You  behold  before  you, 
not  the  calumniator  of  Francis  Leighton, 
but  Francis  Leighton  himself,  your  old 
friend." 

Had  a  bomb  suddenly  fallen  and  burst 
at  their  feet,  it  could  not  have  caused  more 
surprise  and  wonder  with  Teddy  and  Black 
George  than  did  this  simple  declaration. 

At  first  they  both  took  a  step  or  two 
back,  and  then  springing  forward,  each 
caught  me  by  an  arm,  and,  drawing  me 
jose  to  the  tire,  peered  eagerly  into 
my  face.  One  full,  penetrating  glance 
•ufficed. 

"  Him,  by !  "  cried  Black  George. 

"  Howly  Mary  !  "  shouted  Teddy,  throw- 
his  arms  around  my  neck,  and  weep- 
like  a  child.  Then  taking  another  Ion"1 

O  O 

look  into  my  face,  he  sprang  away,  and 
•shouting,  "  Be  howly  St.  Patrick  !  it's 
him — it's  him  !  —  me  young  masther's 
alive  ! "  he  danced  and  capered  around 
me.  with  all  the  wild  gestures  of  joyful  in 
sanity — sometimes  weeping,  and  sometimes 
laughing,  and  occasionally  catching  hold 
of  me,  as  if  to  assure  himself  of  my  iden 
tity,  and  that  it  was  no  vision,  no  halluci 
nation  of  the  brain. 

Black  George,  meantime,  pressed  my 
hand  warmly,  and  said,  in  a  voice  slightly 
tremulous  with  emotion  : 

"  Boy,  I  never  reckoned  seein  you  agin. 
Thought  you'd  gone  under — I'll  be  dog 
gone  ef  I  did'nt !  You  fit  well — I'll  be 
dqifsjed  ef  vou  didn't !  But  whar  d'ye  float 

»  J 

to,  and  whnr's  your  partner  ?  " 

ftome  half  an  hour  was  now  spent  in 
questions  and  answers,  during  which  I 
learned  that  Fiery  Ned  and  Rash  Will  had 
both  been  killed  at  Bitter  Cottonwood  ; 
that  Daring  Tom  had  been  severely 
wounded,  and  shortly  after  left  for  the 
States  ;  that  Carson  had  escaped,  and  was 
at  the  present  time  acting  as  guide  to 
Fremont ;  that  Teddy  had  been  on  a  trap 
ping  adventure  with  Black  George  and  two 
or  three  others ;  that,  having  recently 
made  a  fcrip  to  St.  Louis,  they  wer<i  now 


on  their  way  to  the  mountains  ;  and  thai 
neither  myself  nor  Huntlyhad  been  hoard 
from  since  that  eventful  night — in  conse 
quence  of  Avhich  they  had  supposed  us 
killed  or  made  prisoners.  In  turn  I  gave 
them  a  brief  outline  of  my  own  adven 
tures,  up  to  the  loss  of  my  friend,  at  which 
both  expressed  deep  sympathy,  and  Teddy 
wept  freely. 

"Spaking  of  Misther  Huntly,"  said 
Teddy  at  length,  "  puts  me  in  mind  that 
you  havn't  yit  saan  the  sick  woman,  your 
honor." 

"  True,  Teddy — I  had  forgot.  Lead 
the  way ! " 

At  the  word,  we  quitted  the  trappers, 
and  set  forward  to  the  larger  encampment, 
where  I  found  some  six  or  eight  heavy 
covered  wagons,  arranged  in  a  circle.  In 
the  center  of  the  area  stood  a  group  of 
men,  conversing  in  low  tones,  and  glancing 
occasionally  at  one  of  the  vehicles,  around 
which  several  women  were  collected,  the 
faces  of  all,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  expressive 
of  deep  sympathy  and  sorrow.  Close  to 
the  wagon,  in  which  on  a  rude  bed  the  in 
valid  was  Ivinv  were  two  younij  females, 

v          o  *  J  O 

apparently  of  the  better  class,  one  of  whom, 
clasping  the  thin  hand  of  the  sick  person, 
particularly  arrested  my  attention,  by  her 
display  of  violent  grief.  The  other  ap 
peared  to  be  weeping  also  ;  but  the  faces 
of  both  were  from  me,  so  that  I  could  only 
conjecture. 

Taking  the  lead,  Teddy  forced  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  and  lightly  touching 
the  shoulder  of  the  one  who  held  the  in 
valid's  hand,  said,  in  a  gentle  tone : 

"  Here's  a  doctor,  marm." 

The  next  moment  I  found  myself  the 
cynosure  of  many  eyes,  while  the  one  ad 
dressed,  turning  short  round,  gave  one 
glance,  and  uttering  a  fearful  scream,  sank 
to  the  earth  in  a  swoon.  What  this  meant 
I  was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend ;  for  her 
features  had  been  in  the  shade  of  the  same 
light  which  revealed  mine  to  her. 

"  Nervous  excitement,"  I  said  to  my 
self;  "joy  at  beholding  a  physician  at 
hand  ; "  and  springing  forward,  I  bent 
down  to  raise  her. 

Already  had    my  arms    encircled    her 

slender  form — already  was  I  on  the  point 

of  lifting  her  from  the  earth — when  the 

I  light  of  a  torch  flashed  full  on  her  pai« 


U2 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER;    OR, 


sountenance.  One  look !  one  sudden 
itart !  one  exclamation  of  agonized  wonder  ! 
and  I  remained  fixed,  with  eyes  half  start 
ing  from  their  sockets — speechless — mo 
tionless — seemingly  transformed  to  stone 
— my  arms  encircling — merciful  Heaven  ! 
— the  lovely  form  of — Lilian  Huntly  ! 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

INDESCRIBABLE    FEELINGS QUESTIONS    FOR 

THE   METAPHYSICIAN DIGRESSION PAIN 
FUL  AFFLICTIONS    OF  MY  FRIEND'S    FAMILY 

WESTERN     FEVER CAUSES     INDUCING 

EMIGRATION AN     IMAGINARY     CITY A 

MYSTERIOUS  LADY  AND  DAUGHTER,  ETC. 

THERE  are  feelings  that  cannot  be  de 
scribed.  There  are  emotions  too  deep  for 
utterance.  There  are  times  when  the  mind 
has  power  to  paralize  the  body.  When 
racking  thought  forces  us  to  live  an  age  in 
a  minute.  When  we  see  and  know  all 
that  is  going  on  around  us,  an'd  yet  seem 
to  be  separate  from  the  world — to  exist 
in  a  world  of  ideality — a  spiritual  state. 
When  our  whole  life,  like  a  map,  seems 
laid  before  us,  and  we  behold  at  a  single 
glance,  in  a  second  of  time,  what  has  taken 
us  years  to  enact.  When,  leaping  over 
the  past  and  the  present,  we  seem  to  pierce 
the  great  vail  of  the  future,  and  behold  our 
destiny. 

May  not  this  be  a  foretaste  of  death  ? 
May  we  not  so  see,  and  feel,  and  know, 
when  the  spirit  shall  have  become  sepa 
rated  from  its  frail  tenement  of  mortality  ? 

I  have  said  there  are  such  feelings  and 
emotions  ;  but  they  can  only  result  from 
the  most  powerful  causes.  Neither  do 
they  effect  all  in  the  same  manner.  While 
a  few  experience  the  sensations  just  de 
scribed,  to  others  the  same  or  similar  causes 
may  be  productive  of  death,  insanity,  or 
the  death-like  swoon  of  utler  forgetfulness. 

Of  the  former  class,  was  I — of  the  lat 
ter,  Lilian.  The  same  emotions  which 
forced  her  to  unconsciousness — paralized 
tny  physical  powers,  and  forced  me  to  a 
consciousness  beyond  the  natural. 

Bending  over  her — my  eyes  seemingly 
glazed,  and  fixed  upon  her  sweet  face,  now 
pale  and  death-like  —  I  remained  spell 
bound — all  my  animal  faculties  suspended. 


I  heard  a  trampling  of  feet,  as  several  per 
sons  hurried  to  our  assistance.  I  heard 
voices  expressive  of  alarm  and  dismay — • 
and,  above  all,  the  voice  of  the  invalid 
calling  Lilian  by  name.  I  was  conscious 
of  being  removed — of  seeing  the  idol  of 
my  heart  raised  and  borne  away  also.  1 
felt  my  limbs  chafed  by  half  a  dozen  hands, 
and  water  dashed  in  my  face.  I  saw  thua, 
felt  thus,  comprehended  all — and  yet  my 
mind  was  wandering  far  away  to  other 
scenes. 

Have  we  power  to  think  of  more  than 
one  thing  at  the  same  time  ?  I  contend 
that  we  have — or  else  that  thought,  swift 
beyond  comparison,  sets  before  us  differ 
ent  scenes,  with  such  rapidity,  that  we  seem 
to  behold  two  at  once — sometimes  half-a- 
dozen — and  yet,  each  perhaps,  as  opposite 
and  distant  as  the  north  and  south  poles. 

While  I  comprehended  what  was  going 
on  around  me,  my  mind  flew  back  to  youth 
— to  the  time  when  I  first  felt  a  passion 
foe  Lilian — and  traced  every  event  of  my. 
life  up  to  the  present  moment.  Even  tioe 
dream — wherein  I  had  seen  her  bowvjfi 
down  by  poverty,  and  finally  murdered  l»y 
my  supposed  rival — was  not  overlooked  ; 
and  it  now  recurred  to  me  as  a  vision  of 
prophecy.  Something  fearful  had  hap 
pened,  and  I  had  been  warned  of  it  in  uiy 
sleep. 

How  is  it  that  in  our  sleep  events  are 
made  known  to  us,  that  really  are,  or  are 
about  taking  place  ?  Can  it  be  that  the 
spirit  then  roams  at  will,  in  all  the  freedom 
of  disembodiment,  and  returns  freighted 
with  intelligence  to  communicate  to  the 
physical  senses  ?  Let  the  philospher  and 
metaphysician  answer  !  Enough  for  me 
the  effect,  without  at  present  seeking  the 
cause. 

And  here,  to  keep  my  narrative  straight 
before  the  render,  let  me  digress  one  mo 
ment,  to  place  him  in  possession  of  facts 
which  I  gleanod  afterward — partly  from 
Lilian — partly  from  her  companions  of  th« 
journey. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  in  the  open 
ing  of  this  story,  I  mentioned  my  own 
father,  and  the  father  of  my  friend,  as  be 
ing  wealthy  merchants  in  the  city  of  Bos 
ton.  Shortly  after  our  departure — it  migbi 
be  on  that  very  night  of  my  singular  drears 
— news  of  the  failure  of  three  large  house* 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


118 


m  New  York,  gave  Huntly  the  astounding 
information  that  he  was  not  worth  a  thou 
sand  dollars  beyond  his  obligations.  I  am 
not  going  to  describe  his  feelings,  nor 
those  of  his  family,  on  finding  themselves 
thus  suddenly  plunged  from  a  state  of  un 
limited  wealth  to  one  of  comparative  pov 
erty.  The  effect  upon  the  elder  Huntly, 
was  to  ruin  him  in  his  own  estimation  for 
life ;  and  it  soon  became  apparent  to  his 
friends,  that  he  would  not  long  survive  the 
shock.  All  his  energy,  his  ambition,  went 
with  his  property  ;  and  a  cloud  of  melan 
choly  and  grief  settled  over  his  once  bright 
and  joyous  countenance.  Several  warm 
hearted  friends,  among  whom  was  my 
father,  came  forward  and  offered  to  assist 
him — but  all  to  no  avail.  He  refused  as 
sistance — declaring  it  the  chastening  hand 
of  God,  to  prepare  him  to  depart  to  his 
long  home.  Oppression  of  spirits  brought 
on  physical  debility,  and  the  winds  of  the 
succeeding  autumn  sung  a  dirge  over  his 
grave. 

A  father  and  husband  dead — a  brother 
and  son  away,  perhaps  dead  also — made 
the  home  of  Lilian  and  her  mother  a  house 
of  mourning  indeed ;  and  what  they  suf 
fered  for  the  next  two  years,  I  must  leave 
to  the  imaginations  of  those  who  have  felt 
a  similar  visitation  of  the  hand  of  Provi 
dence. 

After  paying  the  debts  of  the  estate,  a 
remnant  of  property  remained,  to  which  a 
few  friends,  on  pretence  they  owed  the  de 
ceased  for  this  favor  or  that,  generously 
added  more  ;  so  that,  although  compara 
tively  poor,  they  were  in  a  measure  above 
want.  They  left  their  fine  mansion,  to  re 
side  in  a  small  but  pleasant  house,  owned 
by  my  father,  but  for  which  he  would  re 
ceive  no  rent.  Here  they  remained  for 
eighteen  months,  laboring  under  a  weight 
df  affliction  which  those  only  can  know 
who  have  lost  friends  by  death,, been  sud 
denly  reduced  from  affluence  to  poverty, 
and  seen  the  cold,  stinging  look  of  scorn 
and  contempt  upon  the  lips  of  those  heart 
less  beings  who  were  wont  to  play  the 
fawning  sycophant,  and  utter  words  of 
flattery  and  deceit  as  worthless  as  them 
selves. 

During  the.  winter  of  1841-42,  much  was 
•aid  concerning  Oregon  ;  and,  as  general 
ly  happens  with  every  new  place  to  which 


public  attention  becomes  particularly  di 
rected,  there  were  not  lacking  exaggerated 
accounts,  which  set  it  forth  as  the  real  El 
Dorado  of  the  world.  Whether  these  owed 
their  origin  to  the  prolific  brains  of  certain 
romantic  editors,- or  to  the  more  designing 
ones  of  speculators,  or  to  both  combined, 
(the  most  probable)  matters  not ;  but  the 
effect  was  to  set  on  foot  a  tide  of  emigra 
tion,  which,  had  it  continued  to  the  pres 
ent  time,  without  check,  \\ould  have  made 
Oregon  a  populous  country. 

Among  those  who  had  caught  this 
"western  fever,"  as  it  is  frequently  not 
inappropriately  termed,  were  a  few  wealthy 
farmers  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston,  with  one 
family  of  whom  Mrs.  Huntly  had  an  inti 
mate  acquaintance.  Being  on  a  visit  there 
in  the  winter,  she  soon  learned,  much  to 
her  surprise,  that  they  were  already  make 
ing  preparations  to  start,  on  the  opening 
of  spring,  for  this  great  El  Dorado — this 
Ultima  Tltule  of  western  emigration.  Sev 
eral  of  their  acquaintances  were  going  to 
join  them,  and,  above  all,  an  eccentric 
lady  of  wealth  and  refinement,  who,  with 
her  beautiful  daughter,  had  for  the  past 
year  been  the  lioness  and  belle  of  tlit 
aristocratic  and  fashionable  circles  of  Bos 
ton.  Of  this  lady — who  was  known  as 
Madame  Mortimer,  as  also  her  daughter, 
who  had  received  the  subriquet  of  Belle 
Eva,  the  latter  being  her  Christian  name — 
Mrs.  Huntly  had  more  than  once  heard  ; 
and  it  was  with  no  little  surprise,  as  may 
readily  be  imagined,  she  now  learned  of 
her  determination  to  venture  upon  such  a 
long,  tedious,  and  dangerous  journey  ;  and 
she  mentally  said,  "When  such  a  person 
age  resolves  to  leave  all  the  allurements  of 
civilization,  there  must  be  something  worth 
going  for;"  and  this,  probably,  proved 
one  of  the  strongest  arguments  to  induce 
her  to  make  one  of  the  party  herself.  In 
addition  to  this,  her  country  friends  were 
enthusiastic  on  the  subject  of  Oregon,  of 
which  they  had  received  the  most  glowing, 
and  of  course  exaggerated  accounts,  and 
were  eager  in  urging  her  to  join  them. 
Oregon  City  a  name  which  sounded  well 
to  the  ear,  was  to  be  their  destination.  Of 
this  they  already  had  maps,  whereon  the 
beautiful  streets  and  squares  looked  very 
enticing.  Here  each  and  all  were  to 
make  their  fortune ;  and  in  the  visionary 


114 


THE    PRAIRIE     FLOWER;     OR, 


•jf  the  moment,  they,  overlooked  1 
the  sober  fact,  that  Oregon   City  then  ex 
isted  on  the   map  only,  drawn  up  by  some 
speculator,  and  that  its  handsome  streets ' 
and   squar-  s  were    simply  imaginary  loea- ' 
tions  in  an  utter  wilderness. 

But  why   prolong — why  enter  into  de- ' 
tail    of  the    hundred   little    causes    which.  ! 
combined,  decided   Mrs.    Huntly    (a   lady: 
\vho-e    main    faults   were    an   enthusiastic 
love  of  new  projects,  an  overweening  con 
fidence  in  her  own  judgment,  and  a  wilful 
adherence   to  her  own   decisions,  right  or ' 
in    joining  this  ill-timed  expedi- 


tion,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  her  friends 
and  of  Lilian — the  latter  of  whom  con 
sented  to  accompany  her  that  she  might 
not  be  separated  from  her  only  parent. 
Enough,  that  she  had  so  decided  ;  and 
that  early  in  the  spring  succeeding,  hav 
ing  disposed  of  all  her  effects,  she  and 
Lilian,  in  company  with  Madame  and  Eva 
Mortimer,  (whom  the  fashionable  world 
of  course  considered  insane,)  and  some 
eurht  or  ten  families,  had  set  out  on  their 

O  ' 

long  journey  to  the  far,  Far  West. 

And  here,  apropos  of  Madame  Morti 
mer  and  her  lovely  daughter,  of  whom 
much  remains  to  be  said  at  no  distant) 
period.  Although  they  had  appeared  in 
the,  fashionable  circles  of  Boston,  reputed 
wealthy,  nothing  of  their  private  history 
was  known  ;  and  of  course,  as  regarded 
them,  curiosity  was  excited  to  a  great  de 
gree,  but  without  avail.  They  had  been 
met  among  the  bon  ton  of  New  York,  and  | 
invited  to  Boston.  They  had  accepted 
the  invitation,  had  passed  the  ordeal  of 
fashionable  criticism,  had  conducted  them 
selves  on  all  occasions  with  strict  propriety,  : 
and  had  departed,  right  in  the  face  of  all 
the  gossips,  without  a  single  one  being  the 
wiser  for  his  or  her  inquiries. 

As  to  who  and  what  they  were,  and 
how  connected  with  the  foregoing  and 
succeeding  events  of  this  life-history,  the 
reader  who  continues  to  the  end  of  the 
narrative  will  doubtless  be  enlightened. 

[t  is  ne-'idless  for  me  to  touch  upon  the 
jouiney  of  my  friends  westward.  Like 
all  emigrants  who  seek  Oregon  for  a  hciie, 
they  had  experienced  severe  trials  n-nd 
vicissitudes,  which  upon  them  had  fallen 
the  more  heavily,  from  being  the  nrst 
hardships  they  had  e^er  known.  Some 


three  or  four  days  previous  to  my  joining 
them,  Mrs.  Huntly  had  been  taken  sick; 
and  although  Lilian  had  been  greatly 
alarmed  from  the  first,  yet  with  the  others 
the  matter  had  not  been  thought  serious, 
until  the  evening  in  question,  when  her 
symptoms  had  ta^en  an  unfavorable  turn. 
Having  no  doctor  among  them,  application 
for  one  had  been  made  by  Lilian  to  some 
of  the  trappers — who  chanced  to  he  pass 
ing — and  this,  providentially,  had  brought 
us  once  more  together,  after  the  long  and 
eventful  separation  of  more  than  two 
years. 

Having  now,  reader,  put  you  in  posses 
sion  of  facts  important  for  you  to  know,  I 
will  return  from  my  digression,  and  go 
on  with  my  narrative. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

RECOVER     FROM     MT     PARALYSIS THE     IN 
VALID CAUSE    OF    ILLNESS REMEDY  — 

HAPPY      RESULTS JOY     OF    LILIAN AH 

EVASION FAMILIAR      FACES STRANGB 

MEETING REFLECTIONS. 

IT  was  several  minutes  before  1  recov 
ered  from  my  paralysis ;  and  this  was 
doubtless  much  accelerated  by  Teddy, 
who,  having  tried  various  ways  to  restore 
me,  at  last  threw  hi-s  arms  around  my 
neck,  and  placing  his  mouth  close  to  my 
ear,  shouted  : 

"  I  say,  your  honor,  is  it  dead  ye  is, 
now — or  is  it  dead  ye's  jist  agoing  to  be — 
by  the  way  ye's  stare  so,  and  says  nothing 
at  all,  at  all  !  " 

With  a  start,  as  if  suddenly  awakened 
from  a  dream,  I  looked  around  me,  per 
ceived  myself  the  center  of  all  eyes,  and 
heard  my  name  several  times  pronounced, 
coupled  with  that  of  Lilian,  as  here  and 
there  one^  who  had  gained  the  secret  of 
our  strange  behavior,  sought  to  explain  it 
to  others.  To  most,  my  name  was  already 
familiar,  as  the  companion  of  young  Hunt- 
ly,  and  son  of  the  wealthy  Leighton  of 
Boston — and  this,  probably,  had  no  ten 
dency  to  lessen  curiosity. 

My  tirst.  feeling  on  regaining  myself,  (if 
I  may  so  express  it)  was  one  of  confusion, 
that  I  had  so  publicly  laid  myself  open  to 
gossip  ;  my  second,  indignation  at  being 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST 


113 


BO  stared  at ;  my  third,  alarm  as  to  what 
mio-ht  be  the  effect  of  all  this  upon  Mrs. 
Huntly  ;  and  to  her  I  immediately  turned, 
without  a  word  to  the  others.  Perhaps 
the  reader,  if  a  lover,  is  surprised  that 
my  first  alarm  was  not  for  Lilian.  Ay  ! 
but,  dear  sir,  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  Lilian 
was  in  good  hands,  and  in  a  fair  way  of 
recovery,  and  it  would  have  been  injudi 
cious,  at  that  moment,  to  draw,  any  more 
ittention  to  her. 

Mrs.  Huntly  I  found  lying  upon  a  fea 
ther  bed,  in  a  large,  covered  wagon,  un 
derneath  which  was  attached  a  furnace  for 
warming  it ;  so  that,  all  things  considered, 
the  patient  was  more  comfortably  situated 
than  I  had  expected  to  find  her. 

In  appearance,  she  had  altered  much 
since  I  last  saw  her.  Her  naturally  rather 
florid  complexion,  and  full,  round  face,  had 
given  place  to  pallor  and  thinness,  and 
here  and  there  I  could  trace  deep  lines  of 
care ;  but  I  failed  to  note  a  single  symp 
tom  portending  immediate  danger.  Grief, 
fatigue  of  travel,  and  many  anxieties  of 
mind,  together  with  a  touch  of  influenza, 
had  brought  on  a  splenetic  affection,  some 
thing  like  what  is  vulgarly  termed  "  hypo." 
She  had  fancied  herself  very  ill,  and  in  fact 
nigh  unto  death ;  and  I  saw  at  once,  that 
could  she  be  persuaded  the  crisis  had 
passed,  and  that  the  danger  was  over,  she 
would  speedily  recover — and  upon  this  I 
acted  with  decision.  The  cause  of  her 
grief  and  of  her  being  here  I  did  not 
then  know — for  the  information  which  I 
have  given  the  reader  on  the  subject,  was 
not  oL  tained  till  afterward— and  I  saw  it 
would  not  d  j  to  question  her.  It  was  ne- 
cessarj  I  should  appear  cheerful,  whether 
I  felt  so  or  not ;  and  accordingly  1  ap-  j 
proached  her  with  a  smile.  Instantly  her 
eye  brightened  as  it  met  mine,  and  I  per 
ceived,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  that  the 
alarm  occasioned  by  the  swoon  of  Lilian, 
had  proved  beneficial,  in  drawing  her 
thoughts  from  herself  to  another,  and 
arousing  all  her  dormant  faculties.  Ex 
tending  her  hand  as  I  approached,  she 
said,  with  a  sigh  : 

•'  Ah !  Francis,  I  never  thought  we 
should  meet  thus." 

'•True,"I  replied,"!  had  thought  to  meet 
you  under  other  circumstances — though  I 
presume  all  has  happened  for  the  best?" 


"  You  find  me  very  low,  do  you  not  1 " 

"  You  have  been  ill,"  1  answered,  em 
phasising  the  word  have  ;  "  but  everything 
I  see  has  turned  in  your  favor." 

"  How  !"  she  exclaimed,  quickly,  rais 
ing  her  head,  and  fixing  her  eyes  intently 
upon  mine  ;  "  would  you  imply  that  I  am 
not  in  a  dangerous  condition  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  only  imply  it,"  I  rejoined, 
with  energy,  pretending  to  judge  by  her 
pulse,  "  but  I  will  assert  it  as  an  indis 
putable  fact.  If  in  a  week  from  this  you 
are  not  as  well  as  you  ever  were  in  your 
life,  I  will  give  you  leave  to  call  rue  an 
imposter." 

"  Really,  Francis,  you  surprise  me  !  " 
she  said,  with  animation.  "  In  fact,  I  be 
lieve  I  do  feel  better.  But  I  have  been 
sick — you  admit  that  ?  " 

"  0,  most  certainly,"  I  said,  rejoiced  to 
perceive  the  beneficial  effects  of  my  men 
tal  prescription.  "You  have  been  verj 
sick,  and  within  an  hour  have  been  riigh 
unto  death  ;  but  thank  God  !  the  crisis  has 
passed,  and  you  have  nothing  to  do  now 
but  recover  as  fast  as  possible." 

"  But  what  is,  or  has  been  my  ail 
ment  ? ' ' 

Here  I  remembered  the  suggestion  of 
Teddy,  and  quickly  mumbled  over  a  long 
string  of  Latin  names,  with  scientific  ex 
planations,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of 
everybody  but  myself.  The  spectators 
who  had  crowded  around  to  hear  what  1 
had  to  say^-being,  with  but  two  or  three 
exceptions,  good  honest  farmers  and  farm 
ers'  wives  —  nodded  approvals  to  each 
other,  and  gave  me  many  a  respectful 
glance,  equivalent  to  telling  me,  that  rny 
first  case,  without  a  single  dose,  had,  with 
them,  established  my  reputation  as  a  skill 
ful  physician.  0,  the  humbug  of  big 
sounding  words  !  I  would  advise  doctors 
and  lawyers  to  use  them  on  all  occa 
sions. 

Xe\vs  of  my  decision,  regarding  the  pa 
tient,  iiew  rapidly  from  one  to  another — 
lighting  each  countenance,  before  gloomy, 
with  a  smile  of  pleasure — until  it  reached 
the  ear  of  Lilian,  who,  just  recovering  from 
the  effects  of  her  swoon,  uttered  a  cry  of 
joy,  and,  much  to  the  surprise  and  satis 
faction  of  those  engaged  in  restoring  her, 
suddenly  sprang  away  from  them  and 
rushed  to  her  mother. 


THE    PRAIRIE    F  L  OW  E  R  ;    OR, 


"  O,  mollier,"  she  cried,  "  I  have  heard 
ood  tidings  !  " 

O 

"  All  true,  every  word,"   returned  her 
mother,   gaily.   "My  physician   lias    pro 
nounced   me  out   of    danger;"    and  slie 
playfully  pointed  to  me. 

"  God  be  praised  !  "  cried  Lilian  fervent 
ly.  "What  a  miracle  is  this  !  and  how  it 
relieves  my  anguished  heart !  " 

Then  turning  upon  me  her  sweet,  p;ile, 
lovely  countenance  —  her  full,  soft,  blue 
eyes,  moist  with  tears — she  partly  extend 
ed  her  hand,  and  gasped  my  name. 

The  next  instant,  regardless  of  the  time, 
place,  and  the  presence  of  others,  she  was 
clasped  in  my  arms,  strained  to  my  heav 
ing  breast,  and  my  lips  were  pressed  to 
hers  in  the  holy  kiss  of  mutual  love.  It 
was  a  blissful  moment,  notwithstanding- 
all  we  had  both  suffered.  But  it  was  a 
moment  only  ;  for  the  next  she  sprang 
away,  blushing  and  abashed  at  what  she 
doubtless  considered  her  own  boldness. 

"You're  a  wonderful  docther,  your 
honor,"  whispered  Teddy  in  my  ear. 
i'  Faith  !  ye  jist  looks  at  'em,  and  jabbers 
a  few  Lath  in  names,  and  they're  betther'n 
they  iver  was — afore  they've  time  to  know 
what  ailed  'em,  jist — and,  troth !  a  hug 
ging  ye  at  that,  too,  the  purtiest  one 
among  'em.  Is  it  knowing  thim  ye  is-— or 
does  the  likes  of  her  kiss  by  raason  of  yees 
being  a  docthor  ?  Jabers  !  it's  what  I'd 
like  done  to  mesilf,  no\v,  in  any  pertishion." 

"  Hush  !  Teddy.  These"  are  the  sis 
ter  and  mother  of  my  lost  friend." 

"  Howly  St.  Path  rick  in  the  morning  ! 
ye  don't  say  !  "  exclaimed  Teddy,  stag 
gering  back  with  surprise. 

"  Hush  !  "  I  whispered  in  his  ear,  catch 
ing  him  by  the  arm,  with  a  grip  sufficient 
to  impress  the  importance  of  my  words. 
"  Not  a  syllable  concerning  Huntly,  as 

"  O  •/   ' 

you  value  your  life  ! ' 

"  Och  ! "  returned  Teddy,  placing  his 
finger  to  his  lips,  winking  his  eye,  and 
nodding  his  head — "  I'm  dumb  as  a  dead 
nager,  I  is." 

This  caution  was  not  made  any  too  soon; 
for  the  next  moment  Mrs.  Huntly  exclaim 
ed: 

"  But,  Francis,  where  is  my  son — where 
is  Charles — that  he  does  not  make  his  ap 
pearance  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,  my  brother?"  cried  Lilian. 


I  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  serious  fit 
of  coughing,  so  as  to  gain  time  for  a  reply. 
It  would  not  do  to  let  them  know  the  true 
state  of  the  case,  and  I  could  not  think  of 
telling  them  a  falsehood.  A  happy  thought 
struck  me,  and  I  answered  : 

"  Charles  is  not  with  me." 

"  Indeed  !  Where  is  lie,  then? "  cried 
both  in  a  breath. 

"  We  parted  in  California ;  I  left  him 
going  eastward  ;  and,  for  what  I  know,  he 
may  be  now  in  Boston." 

"  God  help  him,  then,  when  he  hears 
the  awful  news,  and  finds  himself  home 
less  and  friendless,  poor  boy  !  "  cried  Mrs, 
Huntly,  with  a  burst  of  grief,  in  which 
Lilian  joined. 

I  how  inquired  what  had  happened,  and 
learned,  in  the  course  of  conversation, 
much  of  that  which  I  have  already  given 
the  reader. 

"  Poor  Charles  !  "  I  sighed  to  myself, 
"  it  is  well  if  thou  art  dead.  Better  be 
dead,  than  return  to  thy  once  happy  home, 
only  to  find  thy  friends  gone,  and  thyself 
a  beggar !  " 

With  Lilian  and  her  mother,  in  their 
misfortunes,  I  sympathized  deeply  ;  but 
fearing  these  saddening  thoughts  mighl 
prove  injurious  to  Mrs.  Huntly,  I  hastened 
to  console  her  by  saying : 

"  We  should  bear  in  mind  that  all  art 
born  to  die  ;  that  riches  are  unstable ;  and 
that  whatever  happens,  is  always  for  the 
best,  though  we  be  not  able  to  see  it  at 
the  time."3 

"  That  I  believe  to  be  the  true  philoso 
phy  of  life,"  said  a  middle-aged  lady  at  my 
side,  whom,  with  her  daughter,  a  meet 
companion  for  Lilian,  I  had  more  than 
ence  noticed,  as  possessing  superior  ac 
complishments  ;  but,  under  the  excitement 
[  was  laboring,  I  had  failed  to  closely  scan 
the  features  of  either.  I  now  turned  at 
once  to  the  speaker,  and  was  immediately 
introduced,  by  Lilian,  to  Madame  Morti 
mer  and  her  daughter  Eva. 

"  Strange  !  "  I  said  to  myself,  as,  bow 
ing  to  each,  I  became  struck  with  the 
familiarity  of  their  features.  "  I  have 
seen  these  faces  before,  methinks — but 
where  I  cannot  tell." 

The  name,  however,  perplexed  me — for 
I  had  no  remembrance  of  ever  befcro  be 
ing  introduced  to  a  Mortimer. 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


117 


"Your  countenance  seems  familiar,"  I 
unid,  addressing  the  elder  lady. 

"  And  so  does  yours,  sir  !  "  she  replied  ; 
"  and  for  the  last  half  hour,  I  have  been 
trying  to  recall  where  I  have  seen  you — 
but  in  vain." 

Suddenly  the  whole  truth  flashed  upon 
me. 

"Were  you  not  in  New  York  with  your 
daughter,  some  two  years  since?"  I  in 
quired,  eagerly. 

"  I  was." 

"  At  the  National  Theatre,  on  the  night 
it  was  burned  ?  " 

"I  was." 

"  Did  not  some  one  rescue  your  daugh 
ter  from  the  flames  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens  !  yes  !  I  remember  now 
— I  remember!"  she  exclaimed,  a  good 
deal  agitated.  "  It  was  you,  sir — you  !  I 
thought  I  knew  those  features  !  "  and  exci 
ted  by  powerful  emotions,  she  seized  both 
my  hands  in  hers,  and  pressing  them 
warmly,  uttered  a  "  God  bless  you ! " 
while  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  grati 
tude.  Eva  was  too  much  affected  to  trust 
her  voice  in  the  utterance  of  a  single  word 
— but  her  look  spoke  volumes. 

What  a  strange  combination  of  startling 
e^sents  had  this  night  revealed  to  me ! 
How.  mysteriously  had  Providence  ar 
ranged  and  put  them  together  for  some 
great  design  !  Who  could  have  imagined 
that  the  mere  act  of  saving  a  fellow  crea 
ture's  life — a  stranger  at  that,  in  a  strange 

"  . 

city — and  leaving  her  without  knowing  her 
name,  or  even  her  residence,  for  a  long 
journey  of  many  thousand  miles — was  to 
nave  a  direct  bearing  upon  my  future  des 
tiny,  and  that  of  my  friend  ?  Yet  such 
was  the  fact ;  and  however  unimportant 
the  incident  might  have  appeared  at  the 
time  to  the  reader — however  irrelative  to 
the  main  story — yet  on  that  very  circum 
stance,  unknown  to  any,  was  depending 
many  of  the  important  events  which  fol 
lowed  those  already  described,  and  which 
in  due  time  will  be  given. 

It  was  with  sensations  peculiar  to  each, 
that  these  matters  were  narrated  and  com 
mented  upon  for  the  next  two  hours  ;  and 
doubtless  not  one  who  heard  the  strange 
and  romantic  story  of  how  I  saved  the  life 
of  Eva  Mortimer,  but  felt  his  most  trivial 
tot  to  result  from  the  hidden  design  of  a 


Higher  Power.  As  for  myself,  such  a 
.chaos  of  ideas  crowded  my  brain,  as  made 
it  impossible  for  me  to  describe  •what  I 
thought,  or  what  feeling  had  the  prepon 
derance,  unless  it  were  a  mingling  of  plea 
sure  and  sadness.  But  one  thing  seemed 
wanting  to  make  me  joyful  ;  and  that, 
aks  !  was  my  friend.  Had  he  been  pre 
sent,  notwithstanding  all  adverse  circum 
stances,  my  heart  would  have  bounded 
with  rapture.  And  he  !  what  would  have 
been  his  feelings,  thus  to  have  met,  in  pro- 
pria  personce,  the  idol  of  his  dreams ! 
thus  to  have  been  placed  tete-a-tete  with 
Eva  Mortimer — the  beautiful  unknown! 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

STANDING  SENTINEL DROWSINESS INTER 
RUPTION SUDDEN  APPEARANCE  OF  PRAI 
RIE  FLOWER HER  WARNING,  SURPRISE, 

AGITATION     AND      ABRUPT     DEPARTURE 

ALARM    THE     CAMP HOSTILE     PREPARA 
TIONS ATTACK REPULSE VICTORY 

ARRIVAL  IN  OREGON CONCLUSION. 

IT  was  late  in  the  night,  and  all  had  be 
come  still  in  the  encampment.  The  ani 
mals — consisting  of  mules,  horses,  oxen 
and  cows — had  been  driven  together  and 
tethered,  and  were  taking  their  repose. 
In  the  area,  formed  by  the  wagons,  two 
fires  were  burning,  at  one  of  which  sat 
Teddy  and  myself,  half  dozing,  with  our 
rifles  resting  against  our  shoulders.  We 
had  volunteered  our  services  as  sentinels 
for  the  night — but  our  watch  could  hardly 
be  termed  vigilant.  In  the  surrounding 
vehicles,  the  emigrants  were  already  giv- 
i  ing  evidence  of  that  sound  sleep  which 
indicates  health  and  weariness,  and  a  ces 
sation  of  the  physical  and  mental  faculties. 
I  was,  as  I  said  before,  in  a  half  dozing 
state.  I  had  been  conning  over  the  many 
singular  pranks  of  fortune  connected  with 
myself,  and  particularly  the  wonderful 
revelations  of  the  last  six  or  eight  hours. 
I  had  been  musing  upon  the  complicated 
web  of  man's  existence  and  already  had 
my  thoughts  began  to  wander  as  in  a 
dream. 

A  rumbling  sound,  like  the  roaring  ot  a 
distant  waterfall  caught  my  ear.  Gradu 
ally  it  grew  louder  and  nearer,  until  1 


118 


THE    PRAIRIL     rLOWER;     OR, 


fancied  I  could  detect  the  pattering  of  a 
horse's  feet  upon  the  hard  earth.  Nearer 
and  nearer  it  came,  and  I  found  my  im 
pression  confirmed.  It  was  a  horse  at  full 
speed — but  what  could  it  mean  ?  Sud 
denly  Teddy  sprang  up,  and  tightly 
grasped  his  rifle.  We  now  both  darted 
outside  the  circle  of  wagons:  By  the  dim  I 
light  we  beheld  a  horse  and  rider  rapidly  ! 
dashing  up  the  valley.  The  next  moment 
the  beast  was  reined  in  to  a  dead  halt, 
some  twenty  yards  distant. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  A  friend,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  clear, 
silvery  voice.  "  Be  on  your  guard,  or  you 
will  be  surprised  by  Indians  !  " 

Heavens  !  I  should  know  those  tones  ! 
Could  it  be  possible  ! 

"  Prairie  Flower  !  "  I  called. 

"  Ha  !  who  are  you  ?  "  was  the  answer  ; 
and  the  next  moment  the  coal  black  pony, 
and  his  beautiful,  mysterious  rider,  stood 
by  my  side. 

"  Prairie  Flower !  and  do  we  indeed 
meet  again !" 

"Who  are  you?"  said  she,  bending 
down  to  scrutinize  my  features.  "  Ha  !  is 
it  indeed  possible  !  "  she  continued,  with 
no  little  agitation,  as  she  recognised  rr.c. 
"  How  you  have  altered  !  I — I — but  I 
have  no  time  to  talk  !  I  must  not  be  seen 
here.  It  would  cost  me  my  life.  I  may 
see  you  again.  Be  on  your  guard  !  How 
strange  !  I  never  thought  to  see  you  again. 
I  must  go  !  " 

These  sentences  were  uttered  rapidly, 
almost  incoherently,  while  the  voice  of  the 
speaker  trembled,  and  there  seemed  a 
wildness  in  her  manner.  On  concluding, 
she  tightened  her  rein  as  if  to  depart — but 
still  lingered  as  if  to  add  something  more. 

"Heaven  bless  you,  Prairie  Flower! 
you  are  always  seeking  the  good  of  others." 

She  sighed,  turned  her  head  away,  and 
strove  to  say,  carelessly  : 

"  Your  friend — I — I — is  well — is  he  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  I  cannot  answer." 

"  Ha  !  what !  how  !  "  she  cried,  quickly, 
turning  full  upon  me,  and  grasping  my 
arm,  which  chanced  to  be  resting  on  the 
neck  of  her  pony.  "  Explain  !  "  and  I  felt 
her  grasp  tighten. 

I  hurriedly  related  our  last  parting. 

For.  some  moments  she  did  not  reply, 
while  her  whole  frame  trembled  violently. 


At  length  she  withdrew  her  hand,  tight 
ened  the  rein  again,  and  gasped  the  singla 
word, 

"  Farewell ! " 

Ere  I  had  time  for  another  syllable,  her 
horse  was  speeding  away  like  the  wind ; 
and  ere  I  had  recovered  from  my  surprise, 
both  were  lost  in  the  darkness. 

So  sudden  had  all  this  happened,  that 
I  felt  completely  bewildered.  Was  I 
dreaming  ?  A  word  from  Teddy  aroused 
me.  Despatching  him  to  the  trappers,  to 
ask  their  assistance,  I  flew  back  to  the 
larger  encampment  and  gave  the  alarm. 
Instantly  the  whole  camp  was  in  commo 
tion  :  and  amid  the  screams  of  women  and 
children,  the  men  grasped  their  arms,  and 
sprung  from  their  coverts  excited  and  pale, 
but  ready  to  meet  danger  without  flinching, 
in  defence  of  those  whose  lives  they  prized 
above  their  own. 

I  hurried  round  the  camp  to  quiet  the 
fears  of  the  weaker  members,  by  telling 
them  there  was  little  or  no  danger — that 
the  Indians,  if  they  came  at  all,  finding  us 
ready  to  receive  them,  would  not  risk  an 
attack.  In  this,  much  to  my  surprise,  I 
was  shortly  aided  by  Lilian  and  Eva,  both 
of  whom  displayed  a  heroic  coolness,  and 
presence  of  mind,  and  fearlessness  of  dan 
ger,  fur  which,  among  all  the  virtues  I  had 
allowed  them,  I  had  given  them  no  credit 
whatever.  Had  I  been  required,  before 
this  event,  to  select  the  most  timid  of  the 
party,  I  should  have  pointed  them  out 
first.  Modest,  unassuming,  retiring  in 
their  manners,  weak  in  physical  powers, 
unused  to  hardships  and  dangers,  with  a 
superior  refinement  in  thought  and  feeling 
— I  had  supposed  them  the  first  to  shrink 
at  anv  alarm.  Judge  of  my  astonishment, 
then,  when  I  saw  them  gliding  over  the 
earth,  as  over  a  soft  carpet,  and,  with 
scarcely  an  appearance  of  fear,  by  their 
acts  and  language,  shaming  the  more 
frightened  to  silence.  The  arrival  of  the 
trappers,  too  —  well  armed — and  their 
seeming  indifference  to  danger,  reassured 
all  in  a  measure,  and  served  to  restore 
order  and  quiet. 

Hastily  organizing,  we  marched  outside 
the  wagons,  and  took  up  our  position  so  as 
to  watch  and  guard  any  point  of  compass, 
not  knowing  at  which  the  foe  might  make 
his  appearance  and  onset. 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


119 


All  relapsed  into  silence,  in  which  man 
ner  an  hour  was  passed,  and  we  were  be 
ginning  tu  think  the  alarm  false,  when  one 
of  the  mt'U  espied  a  dark  object,  as  he  fan 
cied,  slowly  nearing  him. 

Without  a  second  thought,  crack  went 
his  rifle,  and  instantly,  as  if  by  magic,  a 
dark  spot  to  the  north  of  us  became  peo 
pled  by  some  fifty  savages,  who,  finding 
themselves  discovered, and  doubtless  think 
ing  this  the  alarm  of  the  sentinel,  uttered 
frightful  yells,  and  sprang  forward,  in  a 
body.  Rushing  to  the  point  of  attack,  we 
haslily  formed  a  line,  and  placing  our  rifles 
to  our  shoulders,  silently  waited  until  not 
more  than  twenty  yards  divided  us  from 
the  main  body  of  our  enemies. 

"  Fire  !  "  cried  a  voice  ;  and  instantly  a 
dozen  rifles  poured  their  deadly  contents 
among  the  dusky  horde,  with  good  effect, 
as  could  be  told  by  several  frightful  groans 
of  pain. 

This  was  a  reception  the  savages  had 
not  counted  on,  and  they  in  turn  became 
nlanned.  Suddenly  pausing,  they  uttered 
yells  of  dismay,  and  discharging  their 
pieces  at  random,  the  balls  of  which  whis 
tled  past  us  without  a  single  injury,  they 
turned  and  fled  precipitately.  The  victory 
was  ours,  and  to  Prairie  Flower  we  owed 
our  lives.  The  remainder  of  the  night  we 
kept  to  our  arms,  but  were  not  again  dis 
turbed,  and  by  sunrise  the  whole  party 
was  on  the  move  up  the  mountains. 

As  I  could  not  think  of  parting  with  my 
friends  (above  all  with  Lilian)  in  the  wil 
derness,  I  resolved  to  accompany  them  to 
their  destination;  and  then  to  —  to — I 
scarcely  knew  what.  Teddy  of  course 
went  with  me,  and  the  trappers,  out  of 
friendship,  bore  us  company  many  days. 

1  shall  not  weary  you,  reader, 'with  a 
detail  of  all  the  little  incidents  of  our  tedi 
ous  progress  to  Oregon  city.  Suffice,  that 
it  w<is  such  as  all  emigrants  experience  in 
H  greater  or  less  degree,  and  was  attended 
with  a  succession  of  scenes  similar  to  those 
described  throughout  these  pages.  As  I 
had  predicted,  the  health  of  Mrs.  Huntly 
was  gradually  restored;  and  within  ten 
days  from  the  commencement  of  her  con- 
Yalesc«:nce,  she  declared  herself  as  well  as 
at  any  period  of  her  life,  and  that  the 
word  of  her  young  doctor,  as  she  jokingly 
termed  rnt,  was  equal  in  eft'ect  to  the 


combined  virtues  of  the  whole  materia 
medico,. 

The  return  of  Mrs.  Huntly's  strength 
and  spirits,  brought  pleasuie  to  the  eye 
and  bloom  to  the  cheek  of  Lilian,  which 
my  daily  presence,  as  I  was  vain  enough 
to  flatter  myself,  did  not  tend  to  dissipate. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  (and  I  leave  the 
reader  to  judge)  this  long  journey,  so  full 
of  hardship  and  peril,  however  unpleas 
ant  it  might  have  proved  to  her  and  to 
others,  I  must  ever  look  back  to  with 
pleasure,  as  one  of  the  happiest  periods  of 
my  so  far  eventful  life. 

Crossing  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  th« 
well  known  South  Pass,  we  continued  on 
the  regular  Oregon  route — passed  Fort 
Hall — went  down  the  Snake  river  and  over 
the  Salmon  Mountains  to  Fort  Boise — • 
through  the  country  of  Shoshones,  or 
Snake  Indians,  over  the  Blue  Mountains  to 
Fort  Walla  Walla,  on  the  Columbia — down 
the  Columbia,  over  the  Cascade  range,  to 
Oregon  City,  on  the  pleasant  little  Willa 
mette — where  we  all  safely  arrived  about 
the  middle  of  December. 

At  this  period,  as  I  before  remarked, 
Oregon  City  existed  only  in  name — being 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  log  houses, 
(erected  during  the  summer  and  fall  pre 
vious,  by  a  few  emigrants  who  had  reach 
ed  here  in  advance  of  our  party,)  a  com 
plete  wilderness.  The  appearance  of  the 
place,  so  different  from  what  they  had 
expected  to  find  it,  disheartened  my  wor 
thy  friends  not  a  little  ;  and  had  such  a 
thing  then  been  possible,  I  believe  they 
would  at  once  have  returned  to  their  native 
land.  But  this  was  out  of  the  question; 
there  was  no  help  for  their  oversight  now, 
only  by  making  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain ; 
and  so,  after  having  grumbled  to  their 
hearts'  content — wished  Oregon  for  the 
thousandth  time  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
and  themselves  b^ck  home  as  many — they 
set  to  work  in  earnest,  to  provide  them 
selves  homes  for  the  winter,  declaring  that 
spring  should  see  them  on  their  way  to  the 
States. 

With  proper  energy,  properly  directed, 
a  great  deal  may  be  accomplished  in  a  very 
short  time  ;  and  in  less  than  two  weeka 
from  their  earnest  commencement,  no  lesa 
than  eight  or  ten  cabins  were  added  to  the 
few  already  there.  In  these  the  different 


THE    PRAIRIE    FLOWER. 


families  removed,  Teddy  and  I  taking  up 
our  abode  in  that  appropriated  to  Mrs. 
Huntly. 

Although  without  any  effects  save  such 
as  had  been  brought  with  them,  and  short 
of  provisions  also,  yet,  by  one  means  and 
another,  all  managed  to  get  through  the 
winter  as  comfortably  as  could  be  expect 
ed  ;  and  instead  of  preparing  to  return, 
spring  found  the  majority  of  the  new  set 
tlers  entering  lands,  determined  on  making 
this  their  future  residence,  be  the  conse 
quences  what  they  might. 

Some  three  or  four,  among  whom  was 
Madame  Mortimer  and  her  daughter,  were 
still  disaffected,  and  would  gladly  have  re 
traced  their  steps  ;  but  they  could  not  iind 
companions  enough  to  make  the  journey 
safe,  and  therefore,  against  their  will,  were 
forced  to  remain. 

Oregon  City  I  found  beautifully  located 
on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Willamette, 
and,  from  what  I  could  judge,  destined,  at 
no  very  distant  period,  to  become  the 
great  mart  of  the  Far  West.  Here  I  re 
mained  through  the  winter,  and  as  it 
proved  open  and  mild,  employed  my  time 
in  hunting  and  fishing,  and  conversing  with 
the  only  being  I  truly  loved.  Had  my 
friend  been  with  me,  I  should  have  looked 
upon  the  place  as  a  perfect  paradise  ;  but 
thoughts  of  him — of  what  might  be  his 
fate — would  steal  over  me  in  my  most  joy 
ous  moments,  and  cloud  my  brow  with 
gloom.  These  singular  changes  were 
noted  by  Lilian  and  others  with  feelings 
of  surprise,  and  frequently  was  I  ques 
tioned  by  the  former  regarding  them — but 
I  ever  avoided  a  dirert  answer. 

Neither  Lilian  nor  her  mother  knew  the 
true  cause  of  Charles  Huntly's  absence  ; 
and  though  I  often  meditated  telling  them, 
yet,  when  it  came  to  the  point,  I  ever 
shrunk  from  the  painful  task  of  making 
both  wretched.  He  miglit  be  living  ,  and 
the  bare  possibility  of  such  a  thing,  I 
thought  sufficient  to  justify  me  in  keeping 
them  in  blissful  ignorance  of  what  I  sup 
posed  to  be  his  real  fate.  Both  fondly 


anticipated  seeing  him  the  coming  sum 
mer — not  doubting  he  Lad  gone  east,  and 
that  so  soon  as  he  should  receive  tidings 
of  their  locality,  he  would  set  out  to  join 
them.  I  had  no  such  hopes — but  I  dared 
not  tell  them  so. 


IT  was  a  lovely  day  in  the  spring  of 
1843.  On  the  banks  of  the  romantic 
Willamette,  under  the  shade  of  a  large 
tree,  J  was  seated.  By  my  side  —  with 
her  sweet  face  averted  and  crimson  with 
blushes,  her  right  hand  clasped  in  mine, 
her  left  unconsciously  toying  with  a  beau 
tiful  flower,  which  failed  to  rival  her  own 
fair  self — sat  Lilian  Huntly.  It  was  one 
of  those  peculiar  moments  which  are  dis 
tinctly  refttembered  through  life.  I  had 
just  offered  her  my  hand  and  fortune,  and 
was  waiting,  with  all  the  trembling  impa 
tience  of  a  lover,  to  hear  the  result. 

"Say,  Lilian  —  sweet  Lilian!  will  you 
be  mine  ?  " 

Her  lily  hand  trembled — I  felt  its  vel 
vet-like  pressure — but  her  tongue  had  lost 
the  power  of  utterance.  It  was  enough  ; 
and  the  next  moment  she  was-  strained  to 
my  heart,  with  a  joy  too  deep  for  words. 

"  And  when  sahll  it  be — when  shall  my 
happiness  be  consummated,  dear  Lilian  ?  " 
I  at  length  ventured  to  ask. 

For  a  time  she  did  not  reply ;  then  rais 
ing  her  angelic  face,  and  fastening  her 
soft  beaming  eye,  moist  with  tears  of  joy, 
upon  mine,  she  said,  in  a  low,  sweet,  trem 
ulous  tone  : 

"  On  the  day  when  we  are  all  made  glad 
by  the  presence  of  my  brother." 

"  Alas  !  "  groaned  I,  mentally,  "  that 
day  may  never  come  !  " 


THE  fate  of  Charles  Hi- tly  —  of  th* 
mysterious  Prairie  Flower  «*id  others  — 
will  be  found  in  "  LENI  LEOTI — OR,  AD 
VENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WES*  -  -A 
TO  PRAIRIE  FLOWER." 


THE    KITD     OF     PRAIRIE     FLOWBB. 


by   U.  P.  J 
,bo     EL!ZA  A.  DUPUY'S  NOVELS.       EDWIN  F.  ROBOTS  NOVELS. 

.»    YViiCtmi  •    or.     I  Tri-          TliA    Twin     Z$i  itt'iir-r* :    or. 


Walton;  -ri-       The  Twin   Brothers;  or,  I1 

'     Price  5O  Cents,  tims  of  the   Fre*-  • 

,   ,  Land  and  S«a.     8-  Price  2# 

Van**    s  elrton ;    or.    Th6    Concealed  cen|s> 

The  Road  to  Ruin 

«jti*»  of  top  Town,  a  Career    • 

• 
' 


E.    L. 


G.  P.  R.  JAMES'S  BEST  NOVELS. 

Osae  in  a  Thousand;  or,  Tim  Day? 
'>     Price  5O 
cents. 

Richeli  ••.  pnpei 

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TheRobbe.  is"rice 

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"•) 

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